Only Him
by M.Moccio
Summary: "But by the time anyone responded, I was cradling his body next to my chest, sobbing quietly. But it didn't matter. Wally was dead. And I couldn't save him." Update: REWRITE COMING SOON.
1. Prologue: Sepulchral Truths

**Prologue: Sepulchral Truths**

**Summary:** That day, for Robin, it wasn't about justice anymore; it wasn't about catching the bad guy, or saving the civilian. It was about finding Wally's murderer. Two years after the conception of Young Justice, and Wally was found dead, an apparent suicide. Now, with Young Justice breaking up, Flash quitting the Justice League and Crime Fighting, it's up to Robin, the only person who believes Wally's death wasn't an accident, to keep everyone together.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Young Justice

* * *

"One, two, three…"

I've been told many different things about fate and destiny; I remember having this one talk with Wonder Woman, about the Fates, that determine when people will die.

Bruce doesn't think so – he believes in free will, the ability to choose, as does Superman. I believe in some sort of fate, but with many different paths to it, ones that we choose. There are times, though, when my faith has shaken, and I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

"Four, five, six…"

At the time, the only thoughts in my head were akin to: _Why oh why, Wally? Where's the rest of the team?_

I was steadily going up and down, careful of the amount of pressure I was putting on his chest, not so much about the tears that were falling from my face.

"Seven, eight, nine…"

Most people know me as Robin, the Boy Wonder; others know me as Richard Grayson, the son of the Flying Graysons. My friends, my family, know me as Dick.

I _was_ an orphan, until Bruce adopted me, and I found the Batcave and became Robin. After that, everything just got better. And I met Wally, and I couldn't have been happier.

"Ten, eleven, twelve…"

Even through the trials and tribulations, Young Justice flourished for two whole years. Connor, M'gann, Kaldur… all of them grew along with me. And Wally. We became more than a team, we became another family – a little different from the Bat Family, but still just as adhesive.

"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…"

It had been a day, just like any other. I had come home to Mount Justice, right after school, ready to crash with the rest of the team, only to find it deserted. So I just lazed about, waiting for people to come back.

M'gann and Kaldur were on outings with Martian Manhunter and Aquaman respectively, and ever since Conner learned how to fly, he usually spent time with the Kents in Kansas. They, as I've heard, took him in with open arms. He even went to school in Smallville, just like Supey himself.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…"

I spent a lot of time in the Trophy Room, just looking at the fruits of our labor: Dr. Fate's Helment, the Riddler's cane, Captain Cold's gun, the Sensei's glass eye. But one stood above all.

In the two years of Young Justice, the most memorable mission belonged to the one that went along with the card sitting beneath the bullet proof case in the Trophy Room: the Joker's calling card.

It was the mission that got Kaldur captured and I had to pick up the slack. It was the first time I really took over the position of leader, and it kinda just stuck after that. I mean, at first I was surprised, but then I just got into the groove of it.

"Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…"

But, I had found myself wandering to Wally's room. I had never been in there, and I was always curious exactly _what_ he kept in there, making all the shuffling noises at night. So, when he wasn't in the Mount, why not?

When I opened the door to his room, I vomited at the sight.

"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…"

Wally was there, hanging from the middle of the room, dressed in his Kid Flash uniform, with the face mask down. I had gotten to him the moment I got over my vomit and cut him down, cradling him in my arms before I set him down upon his bed.

I ignored the stench, and just focused on his face. It was so peaceful. So serene, like nothing mattered anymore. At the time, he wasn't breathing, and I had literally ripped the suit from his body to expose his bear chest.

"Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…"

I had already tapped the distress signal I always carried, praying to whatever Gods were watching to send someone to help me. Someone, anyone.

"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty."

But by the time anyone responded, I was cradling his body next to my chest, sobbing quietly. One hand was at his side, pulling him towards me, the other was holding his hand, searching for a pulse; I rested my chin on his soft red hair, and even when the Flash came, Batman and the Justice League at his heels, I was still cradling him.

But he was dead.

And the only evidence, the only thing pertaining to him was the message written on his wall:

It's here I find communion,

Laid out as a lamb,

Through it I will find,

Only what's within.

But it didn't matter. Wally was dead. And I couldn't save him.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well… that's the beginning. Don't expect much for updates. I'll update as often as I can, and not too much sooner. Reviews and critiques would be especially helpful . Oh, and for reference, since it's been 2 years since the start of the team in this fanfic, just add +2 to everyone's ages.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1: The Crying Sun

**Chapter One: The Crying Sun**

**Story so Far:** Upon entering Mount Justice, Robin was caught up in reminiscence, that is, until he finds his best friend: Wallace West, Kid Flash, hanging from his ceiling in an apparent suicide, with only a poem as evidence. Even though Robin did his best, he could neither save Wally and neither could the League, which came too late.

* * *

Usually in Keystone City, the wind would always be acting up, blowing the leaves off of the trees, creating a barren looking landscape – which was fitting, I guess, since it's known as the 'Blue Collar City' of the US. But, of course, when we buried him, it was still, not even a breeze; it was as if nature itself was mourning.

It had been two weeks after Wally's death when we actually put him in the ground. For the first couple of days, the Flash, Batman, the Elongated Man, and the Question looked through HQ, which we were barred from going to until the investigation was over, to determine what happened.

I can't tell you what was more grueling: the fact that I was the one who found him, and couldn't save him, or the fact that they were really considering it was a suicide. I know… _knew_… Wally. He would _never_ have done this; besides, there was no reason, no _point_. Wally always had a point or a motive, even if it was just for kicks.

Just yesterday was the viewing; all of us were in our civvies. The superhero community who attended stayed to the back, standing like stolid sentinels amidst a crowd of mourners. We were the honor guard – we all knew that; we had our own private viewing before hand, and were just there for moral support for Barry, Wally's uncle.

Wally's parents were absent.

"Do you think the crowd will thin anytime soon?" Superboy casually asked me, when we were standing at the wake.

"Shut up, Conner." I wasn't in the mood to talk to him, nor was I really interested in his boredom.

"Fine," he huffed, "I was just wondering how he knew so many people."

Oh. Now who feels like an ass?

"Sorry, Conner. I'm just… not myself lately."

"That's understandable," he nodded and went back to our silence.

It was true; there were a lot of people at the wake, most of them highschool students, and teachers and their families. A lot of them were friends and acquaintances of Barry, there to off their condolences. Throughout the wake, his wife Iris held his hand, and helped throughout the process.

I still remember our private wake with vivid detail. We were all in costume and there were quite a few Supers there. But we were first: Young Justice, Batman, Canary, and Flash. Of our group, I was the first to look upon Wally's body.

Even I couldn't hold back some tears. Superboy was rather moody, deciding to keep his feelings inside; Kaldur too was silent. Artemis was rather… detached, almost as if the lights were turned on, but nobody was home. M'gann, however, was a different story.

It was the first time she had seen Wally since the accident, as I decided to label it. What she did, I tell you in caution, was one of the most heart wrenching things I've ever witnessed.

She placed her hand upon Wally's head, as a goodbye, and audibly gasped, drawing the attention of several heroes. Immediately, she lunged into Superboy's arms and cried, "He's… he's so cold."

I had to look away so no one would see my own tears welling again. I had felt a firm grip on my shoulder, looking up, it was Batman's. I drew away from it.

It had been the wish of Barry to have Wally buried with his costume placed underneath him. After Wally… the body… had been placed into the casket, the Flash placed it ceremonially beneath Wally the night before. It was symbolic, and we all knew that the Flash was going through a tough time.

I clenched my fist as the casket was being lowered into the grave.

_BOOM!_

The whole earth rocked as the echoing noise tumbled through the area. The casket, which was being lowered, was flung on its side, crashing open – Wally's body tumbling forward. Instantly, I moved to catch it, but a red blur moved past me. I got Wally, holding him, and looked behind me.

Barry was holding Wally's uniform. When the body came out of the casket, so did the uniform, and Barry had to grab it before anyone noticed. But I was looking at Wally's body. It felt… different that before, not as cold. Probably because of the weather, but I didn't

I saw a nod between Bruce and Clark, Batman and Superman, and they turned around to leave, to take care of whatever it was just happened. All the mourners there were in a state of panic – chairs were upturned and everyone was assessing the damage.

"Wait," I yelled at them, "don't go." My voice quivered at the end, but I knew they had to go. Young Justice certainly wasn't and neither was Barry. In the end, they were all still heroes.

"Help me," I said to Conner, who lifted Barry up, while Kaldur got the casket back to its normal position. Thankfully, it wasn't damaged, just askew. As we those two put the body back in, I simply sat there, struggling to breathe. The mourners were all sniffling, appalled at what had happened.

But I got up, slowly, watching them. Until I turned around, and saw Artemis holding M'gann, who was disguised as a human, and Barry, who was gripping onto Iris for support. His eyes drifted towards me, and he clutched the bulge in his chest, like it was the weight of the world. I couldn't help him with the burden.

The rest of the funeral went off without a hitch, so to speak, and as all the mourners left, it was only Barry, Isis, and the team who remained, watching as they filled up the grave with soil.

"Come," Kaldur said, "we must go." He took my by the shoulder, and we walked away – Iris going to handle the affairs while we, including Barry, went to go back to Mount Justice.

"Batman to Robin: the threat has been neutralized. Rendezvous at Mount Justice for a debrief."

"Roger," I said, tapping my communicator. He didn't sound happy, and neither was I.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"We've assembled you here," Aquaman began, dressed in full regalia, "to tell you what is to become of the team."

We were seated at the table in our conference room, while the mentors of the Justice League stood before us: Batman, Flash, Martian Manhunter, Green Arrow, and Aquaman.

"What do you mean, my king?" Kaldur and his 'my king' crap really gets on my nerves sometimes, but I was too busy narrowing my eyes at Batman to really care. I had suspected this, but it never really dawned on me that it actually would happen.

"It means we're disbanding you," Batman said. "You are to return to normal duty with your mentor and that is that. With the death of Kid Flash, this team needs time to recover. In the event that we require another team such as yourselves, we will call upon you again, but for the time being, gather your bearing."

"How can you do this!" Artemis shouted, as she stood up, pounding her fists on the table.

"Now, Artemis," Green Arrow started, but she interrupted him

"No! Have these past two years meant _nothing_ to you? We've proven ourselves a couple hundred times over, and all you have to say is 'Thanks, go back home'? That's bull, and you know it."

She crossed her arms.

"Regardless," Batman said, his eyes narrowing, "you will do as you are told."

"Why?" Everyone turned to Superboy, sitting with his arms crossed. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that we stand by what we told you the first day this started: get on board, or get out of the way."

"No," Superman said. "There are some decisions you have to respect, and this _will_ happen, whether you like it or not. We will be shutting this place down and restricting your access until such a time that we feel you're ready to fight together again."

"Why are you the judge of that?" I asked him this time, standing alongside Artemis.

"Robin, _sit down_," Batman ordered.

"No. Let's get one thing straight, we're your _partners_ not your sidekicks. So don't treat us like that when we've fought what you've fought, done what you've done," Robin replied.

"Have you ever had your back broken? Have you ever faced death itself and survived the encounter?" Batman asked. Robin didn't reply. "Didn't think so."

"Guys… maybe we should take some time off." Like a bomb, Artemis and I went off on Miss Martian.

"Enough." Superman and Batman said it in unison, but Superman continued. "This discussion is over, and you _will_ respect our decision. Now, go and pack what's in your quarters. As of tonight, Young Justice is officially disbanded."

They all filed out, save for the Flash, who lagged behind. Surprisingly, he hadn't said a word the entire meeting, and I hadn't been looking at him, since I was too busy yelling at Batman.

Miss Martian exited the room right after them, and I glared at her back.

"Robin, stop." Kaldur glared at me, and both of our eyes softened. "Let's… just pack."

"I can't believe this," Artemis said. "Nothing, not even a _fight_. Seriously, without even a fight."

"No, Artemis," I said. "There's nothing we can do. Not at this point. But has anyone noticed _why_ they're being so adamant about this? What happened back in Keystone?"

"I do not know, Robin, but if they wanted to tell us, they would have," Kaldur said.

With a growl of frustration, Artemis threw her hands up and exited, Kaldur behind her. Robin scowled and looked to Superboy, who was too busy thinking about something to respond to their conversation. With his own growl of frustration, Robin exited as well, leaving Superboy to his thoughts.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"Don't understand…" Batman's voice.

"Couldn't have been Grodd…" Superman.

"Doesn't…. sense… not since… the Society…"

I was in front of the main room, where the mentors were, trying to listen in, but my equipment wasn't good enough to completely break through. All I had to go on was what I could hear.

"Does… matter? My… dead… I… care… about any… this." That was the Flash. "Seri…sly… I think… done… no more… fighting."

"Barry, don't… in." Superman. "You'll… through…"

"No, Supes, I won't." Woah, woah. Why were the voices getting louder?

_Schwoop_.

"Uh… I Flash, I hope you're feeling better," I said awkwardly. "Argh!" It felt as if I had been slapped with the force of a brick, which, I guess, in hindsight isn't that unbelievable, considering how fast Flash could go. I was slapped and tumbled back and crashed into the wall.

"That's that." Barry took the mask of his costume off and threw it to the ground. "I'm done."

And he walked away.

Superman let out an audible sigh, and, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, Batman's eyes narrowed. "We need to talk."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Just so you guys know, I don't do the whole 'respond individually' to the reviewers, but I've read them, and I thank you for them . Nothing gets a writer's heart glowing than good reviews. On that note, it was my birthday yesterday, Feb. 26th, so please review!

Also, it's good to know that some of you think this is depressing, because the first… rough half of the story is kinda sad, and you'll get to know Dick a whole lot more. This is one hell of a ride you're going to go on if you stick with this story. Just saying.

Thanks!


	3. Chapter 2: The Begotten Severance

**Chapter Two: The Begotten Severance**

**Story so Far:** After Wally's apparent suicide, he's buried in Keystone City. His parents refrain from attending the funeral, and Barry, the Flash, in his sorrow, quits the League after the mentors determine that Young Justice is to be disbanded. After a mysterious event at the funeral, Robin becomes suspicious and tries to find out the nature of the event by spying on the mentors, only to have Batman catch him in the act.

* * *

"Unacceptable; completely out of line," Batman almost growled as he typed away on the Main Computer of the Bat Cave. Both of our masks were removed, immersed in the inherent safety of the Sanctum. He looked different without his mask on: fair skin, black hair, like mine, black eyes, and a strong face. As a business man _and_ as a hero, he was the envy of a lot of other people.

"Your behavior or mine?" I replied, spitting into one of the bottomless chasms engulfing the floors.

"Don't test me, Dick." The voice was short, cold.

"This is ridiculous, Bruce. You and I both know that Wally would _never_ commit suicide." I rubbed the back of my neck, looking up at the ceiling.

"I saw the scene for myself. There were no signs of a struggle, no signs of anything that would indicate something other than it was," Bruce replied. "_This_ is why we decided to disband Young Justice; you _can't _accept what happened."

"Don't –" I literally shouted, before stopping myself. "Don't say that. I don't think he committed suicide. I _know_ him Bruce, and that transcends any kind of data you can collect."

At that, Bruce swiveled around in his chair and I recoiled out of habit. Bruce's eyes were soft and warm, more so than I had usually seen in him.

"Why do you think I brought the Question? The Elongated Man? Both of them are respected detectives in their own right. If all three of us have come to same conclusion, why can't you accept it?"

My eyes narrowed, "And what exactly did you find? Because… I think –"

And then the alarms sounded throughout the cave, and Batman jumped out of his seat pulling on his cowl. When I moved to follow, he said, "No, stay here. This is what we want for you guys: rest. I can handle this alone."

"Who is it?" I asked, clenching my fists.

"The Riddler." And Batman leapt into the driver's seat of the Batmobile and sped off, leaving Robin in the confines of the cave.

I felt alone; at that moment, standing beneath the dark confines Robin's home, I, Dick, was separated from the rest of the world. It was a feeling… worse than death.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

I screamed in frustration as I took one of the card tables kept in the back of the Batcave and flipped it over. Bruce had _never_ done that before. He hadn't just left, without so much as a legitimate reason why, and it made me furious.

"Master Dick, please calm down," Alfred said compassionately, putting his hands on my shoulders. I didn't even hear him come into the Batcave. "Master Bruce is only doing what he feels is best."

I shrugged off of him and replied, "Just because Bruce feels it's best, doesn't mean it is Alfred. I'm his _partner_; I can take care of myself on missions. I think I've proven that, haven't I, Alfred!"

I was breathing rather loudly, absently punching the walls of the Batcave as Alfred looked on for a moment.

"I have no doubt of your abilities, Master Dick; but you should be mindful: Master Bruce knows what he's doing. _Trust_ him."

Punching the wall again, I collapsed to my knees. "Doesn't he understand, that doing nothing just makes the pain worse?" And I started to cry again. God dammit, the tears wouldn't stop, and I just rubbed my eyes furiously, trying to quell their onslaught.

Alfred knelt down next to me, and I looked at his face. He had wrinkles and saggy skin, but it just added to his amicable appearance: grey hair, brown eyes, and a smile that never failed to bring me out of a horrible mood – except for now.

He said, "It's the pain that we feel that makes us human; it's the pain that we must feel to move on. Master Bruce is no stranger to loss, and he wants you to recover from what even you cannot perceive, Master Dick. Come now, Master Dick, I'll prepare you a sundae."

"I don't want a sundae, Alfred," I replied quietly.

"Well, Master Dick, I'm sure that I can whip you up –"

"I don't want anything, Alfred – leave me alone!" And I lashed out with my arm, sending Alfred back. "I… I'm sorry, Alfred."

I couldn't hear him for a minute, and determined that he was staring at me in shock, before he said, "Very well, Master Dick. I shall be upstairs if you require my assistance."

And with that, Alfred left, leaving me to wallow in my pain.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"As you know, Robin, I believe in the bigger picture."

That would be Victor Sage, the Question, one of the best detectives in the world. We were talking over the Batcave's video channel; I was wearing my costume and so was he: a polymer mask that covered his entire face to make it without features. Otherwise, he was completely normal.

"Which is why I share suspicions with you about Kid Flash's suicide."

I was impatient, fidgety. Normally I could control myself, but it was slowly slipping away from me, and no matter how much I tried to keep my composure… it eluded me.

"Murder," I corrected.

"Undetermined reason for death," he compromised. "Which is why I'm talking with you. I believe his death will be the first of many… probably connected to the crop circles the Girl Scouts make to endorse the president… I should check into that."

"Get to the point, Question; I'm only interested in Wally's death."

"Patience." Even he talked to me like I was a child, with that high intonation that made it sound like he was a teacher, not a cohort or partner. "I've made contact with you because, although I have my suspicions, I have nothing left to go on. Except for the poem that was left at the scene."

"Yeah," I replied, resting my chin on my hand, "I've never thought Wally was the type to write poetry."

"My thoughts exactly," he mused, rubbing his chin. "That leaves either two logical conclusions: we didn't know he wrote poetry, or someone else left it as a calling card. Homework: I shall look into anyone who uses poetry as a calling card –"

"Maybe not… Couldn't it also be… a _riddle_?"

"That's quite possible. Why, is the Riddler in town?"

"Actually, yes." My eyes narrowed. Could that have been why Bruce didn't want me along? Because he suspected it was a riddle as well?

"Hm… Batman's on it, correct?" I nodded. "Then don't worry about it. He'll talk to me about his findings and I will relate them to you; who, on the other hand, should work on deciphering whatever was meant in that poem, as will I. I'll contact you when I have something."

"How?"

"You'll see. Question, out."

And with that, the screen went blank. I had work to do, before Batman came back anyway.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

I scrawled it out on a note and stuck it on the cork board:

_It's here I find communion,  
Laid out as a lamb,  
Through it I will find,  
Only what's within._

"What did this mean to you, Wally?" I asked, taking a picture of the board to keep it on hand in my own system, for whenever I had a spare moment.

It was then I heard the Batmobile and quickly pressed a button that flipped the corkboard and switched it with the natural rock: a hiding place Bruce had developed, but had long since forgotten.

"What were you doing?" Batman asked as he came out of the Batmobile.

"Nothing. So," I looked straight at him, "how's the Riddler?"

"Insane; in Arkham."

"What happened?"

"Nothing to be too concerned about. Did you stay up to wait for me? Why don't you go to bed? I have everything down here, and you have school tomorrow."

Right, it was Sunday, but I didn't pay much mind to that; I was busy contemplating his words. It was one sentence off of the other, and I flashed back to when I was still green, learning how to fight. There were nights when Bruce would go out and I would stay awake to train until he got back. I always though he would compliment me for my diligence; he didn't then and he didn't now.

"We still have unfinished business, Bruce."

"No, we don't," he said, taking his seat again at the computer. "I'll tell you when you're ready."

"I _am_ ready."

How could he possibly know when _I_ was ready for something? This was all about how _I_ felt, it should have been _my_ decision.

"No, you aren't." God, he didn't even look at me.

"God dammit, Bruce – he was _my_ friend, he was _my_ teammate. You _will_ tell me what happened, or… or I swear, I'll leave, Bruce, I'll –" but I choked over my words, looking down at the ground.

"You'll leave? Where will you go, Dick? You're 16 and my legal ward. Go to bed and get some rest, we can talk about this in the morning."

"Argh!" I screamed, and lunged at him, taking him down and rolling over the floor until I was sitting on top of his chest, leaning over him. "Why – don't – you – understand! I - need – to – find – out – what – happened!"

With every word, I punched the only person who cared enough about me to adopt me and avenge my parents; with every punch, I cried over him, letting my emotions spill onto his bloody face; and with every tear, I severed the bond that held us together until I couldn't punch anymore. And in all that time, Bruce was silent, taking each punch with a passive face. By the end, I was huffing, and he pushed me off of him, and I closed my eyes, waiting for him to hit me back. Instead, I felt his hands snake around me, and he pulled me into a hug.

I needed Bruce, but all I was getting was Batman.

"Until… until I figure things out," I said, "I can't work here, I can't stay here… I… I'm sorry." I probably sounded angry, far angrier than I actually was, but I tapped into that anger and I had turned it against Batman. Not Bruce – I would never have hurt Bruce – but I did Batman, and I couldn't face myself.

He didn't stop me that night, as I ran up the steps to the Manor, but I knew… I knew that he was hurting on the inside. Just like I was burning inside.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

All it took was one backpack to pack the essentials: clothes, computer gear, some money to pay for food and rooms that I would need. The R-Cycle would provide for transportation, and it was self-power – I would never need it for gas. I brought along a couple of tools for maintenance, and, of course, my tool belt. But I didn't bring alone my Robin costume. All I had was a coat, a sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers, and my sunglasses. That would be the panoply of my sojourn.

"Master Dick," Alfred said, coming into my room.

"Alfred, if you're going to tell me to stay, save it. I don't want to hear it; I _will_ find Wally's murder… with, or without Batman's help."

"He _does_ care about you, Master Dick… but… I have come to give you some things," he replied, smiling kindly. "The first, is a credit card," he handed it to me. "It's a special WayneCorp Credit Card that I monitor personally. You'll have access to anything you'll need on your trip through that card – it serves as a universal passcard for all WayneCorp technology as well. Here," he handed me a piece of paper, "is a list of places that Master Bruce has compiled over the years that are the best places to stay when one doesn't wish to be found. And lastly… this is a gift from both myself and Master Bruce." He handed me a package wrapped in black tissue paper.

I took it and my hands were shaking. And as I unwrapped it, I looked away.

Alfred smiled and said, "We both agreed that you were becoming too large for your costume and fashioned you a new one. After… after what happen tonight, I added a new element to it. Go on, Master Dick. Put it on and see yourself in the mirror."

I pulled it on, and did just that. It was a red shirt and black pants and boots. On my chest were two utility belts, forming an 'X' on and around my chest to my back, holding a blank, circular, golden emblem with nothing on it; over the red shirt was a black cape, much like Batman's but mine had a full hood with it, sans Batman's traditional spikes.

"I put a new emblem onto it, to do with it what you wish; just put your hand onto it and imagine what you want – the technology will reflect the image in your mind," Alfred said, smiling.

"Alfred… I _will_ find the cause of Wally's death, but not as Robin…" I said, putting my hand on my chest. "From now, until I fulfill this… I will become the Tribute, a tribute to Wally's life, and the vengeance needed to make this right." With that said, a black 'T' formed upon the emblem, and I was born anew.

I took out my utility belt and put it on. "Thank you, Alfred… for everything." I hugged him and went to the garage. Without saying goodbye to Bruce, I revved up the R-… well, now I guess – T-Cycle's engine's and sped off into the night. The only thing I didn't know, at the time, was that the bats inside flew out with me.

I guess… maybe I wasn't alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So… guess who passed his driving test :D :D :D! Just in case you can't guess… I did .. Anyway, so, a lot of emotion going on in that chapter, and as I read through it again… I actually really like it, and I hope you do too!

If any of you want to know the progress of the chapters or things like that, just look on my profile! As always, please review!

Thanks .


	4. Chapter 3: Futile Realizations

**Chapter Three: Futile Realizations**

**Story so far:** Robin doesn't believe Wally really committed suicide; no, it's something of a more insidious nature. After conferring with the Question, a famed detective in his own right, Robin beings to try and unravel the mystery surrounding Wally's death. Batman, on the other hand, appears to have closed the case. Angry at his mentor for both ignoring his claims concerning Wally's death and Batman's inability to show him the fatherly comfort he needs, Robin decides to leave Wayne Manor and set out on a journey to find out what really happened. But, he won't go as Robin; he has become "a tribute to Wally's memory": The Tribute.

* * *

All I really remember is the _vroom _of my motor, as I rode for an entire day, only stopping twice – both to ensure I wasn't followed and to grab a bite to eat. Both of them were… interesting. I didn't really like _Joe's Stuff and Such_ and _Mystery Inc's _WondrousBundrous– whatever that means – Flounder just made me gag. Seriously, how serving food that disgusting is legal is beyond me. I was _whelmed_ by it.

Anyway, the entire trip was strange. I hadn't been on a motorcycle for that long since… ever. It was actually quite a sobering trip, and if I hadn't been pressed for time, I might've enjoyed it more at the time. But I pressed myself.

Within the very recesses of mind, I ran through the scene over and over again in my head, until I made sure that every single little aspect was accounted for, that every single little detail was ingrained in my mind. The only company for my thoughts was the sun and the stars; I found comfort in them. The solidarity and the unity of them both in tandem with each other: seemingly opposites, yet working in a constant flux in balance.

I wish I could say the same for the open road: nothing but idiots driving; the highways were always packed and people wanted to cut in front of everyone else. More than once, I thought about stopping just to tell them how stupid they were, but then I remembered his face and I continued on. I continued on.

For those 28 hours, I didn't sleep. Occasionally, my concentration would lapse, from between driving and thinking, and I wavered at the wheel. But, I was always able to get out of my funk before I crashed into something. Funk. That's such a weird word. It's one Wally would probably have used.

But you probably don't care that much about what words Wally _might_ or _would_ have said; you're only interested in what actually happened. But I want to know what Wally _might_ have said, because I _need_ to know.

I know, I know. Teenage angst ahoy – and a sixteen year old traversing on a motorcycle to Nebraska probably wasn't one of the most discreet ways to travel, but I've always been self sufficient. Although I look young, I'm smart enough to get out of the way of the cops and mind my own business. But I couldn't mind my own business then – I honestly felt that it was my job to figure out if something – _anything_ – happened.

Batman wouldn't, the Flash wouldn't. I didn't even bother asking anyone else. The only one who would be interested in tagging along would be Artemis, but I didn't, at the time, know where she was or how to contact her. I probably could've, but this was something I had to do alone.

After all, we were the golden trio: Wally, Roy and I. We were introduced to each other before everyone else and bonded like we were _meant_ to. After Roy's drug abuse, everything became so much different. But I won't get into that – it's still too painful. And Wally's… death only made it that much worse. After the incident with Roy, Wally and I became closer, depended on each other more.

It honestly felt like there was something missing from me. Like I was alone.

And that was when I found myself in front of the blazoned sign reading: _Welcome to Blue Valley, Nebraska!_

There was no slogan – no catchy ending. It was a town that I would have a hard time blending into. Small and cohesive, it was almost like one giant suburb. There would be no place to stay and effectively _sleuth_ in the night. So, I continued on, around the town, until I found a quaint little motel that looked like the perfect place to find the resident pimp.

Happy Birthday to me.

I parked the T-Cycle and walked up to the front of the Motel Yarth. Interesting name. The front desk was more like a caged box, protecting the cashier. I guess everyone was insanely paranoid. Including myself, but that's beside the point.

"I'd like a room," I said, looking directly at the woman. Not that she could see my eyes – I was still wearing my sunglasses and she busy perusing through a magazine; my clothes were simple and forgettable. It was obvious that I wasn't of legal age, but she didn't even bat an eyelash.

She was white, with shoulder length hair tied into a pony tail. Her face had way too much mascara and she was chewing bubble gum and made an irritating cracking noise with it every five seconds. Minus one for the Nebraskians.

"Got some ID, fella?" she asked, eye me with a skeptical, but serious look.

"Yeah, it's in between the cash." I handed her a wad of bills, far more than it would cost for a couple nights' stay, but she would get the point. "I want four nights."

"Hm… nice picture, Mr. Smith," she replied, pocketing the money and handing me a key. "Up the stairs, third door on the left. There's a vending machine to the left of the stairs and an ice machine in the middle of your floor. If yous needs anything, please, hesitate to ask."

"Thanks."

I was already walking towards my room, my backpack slung over my right shoulder. There was only two other people awake at the time – it was midnight – and I walked past them without a glance.

The room was small: a bed, a TV, a desk, and a bathroom. It was perfect. I took out my computer gear and set it up on the table after closing the shades of the single window. Although it was only a single laptop, it was outfitted with WanyeCorp technology – only comparable to that of LexCorp or Star Labs. I could link up to virtually every connection possible and use it to communicate globally.

"I see you're starting to think like a detective."

At the time the voice resounded through the room, I was busy taking a dump. Wasn't that nice?

"Question?" I asked, covering my sensitive area.

"Oh, don't worry Richard –" I flinched "– I'm using the WayneTech uplink to patch through to your computer's audio system and talk to you through it."

"How, um, did you find out my name?"

"Richard, it would behoove me to know my cohort completely. If you haven't figured out my name yet, then you should just qu–"

"Victor. Victor Sage."

"–it. Ok, scratch that. But good job, going to Blue Valley. Predictable, but necessary."

"Does the fact that you know where I am mean that –"

"Yes, Bruce does know you're here."

"Ok, if we going to keep this conversation, we have to quit interrupting each other. It's getting _really_ annoying."

"Understandable. But this isn't why I called."

"You have information, I gather?"

"And I hope you do as well."

"Unfortunately, I haven't gotten anything on the poem as of yet."

"Hm… shame. But! I am uploading a document to your computer that details the findings of myself, the Elongated Man's, and Bruce's. Those together could provide some insight you might be over looking."

"Thanks, Question."

"Of course, Robin. Or should I start calling you Tribute now?"

"Tribute. I'm not Robin anymore."

"Be careful, _Tribute_. Don't go making rash decisions; residual stress can be detrimental on the mind."

"_Don't you think I know that!_" I yelled hoarsely. "I've weighed the risks and I'm prepared. Don't think otherwise. Got it?"

"Affirmative. Question, _out_."

And the line went dead.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

My sleuthing was fantastic. It was only the second night, but I was already having _so_ much fun. Not only because I didn't have _him_ looming over my back or leading me into boredom with every turn, but also, I was in my Tribute costume. It added to my excitement, allowing me to forget for only a moment the situation I was in. Because there were no villains to deal with, I brought some chips, a drink, and my binoculars. Fantastic.

Surprisingly, it was hard to stay hidden, however. Mostly because it _was_ the suburbs and there weren't any particularly great hiding places, but I made my mark and was able to find a relatively comfortable spot to stay for the rest of the night. If you count comfortable as having the edges of a stony fireplace dig into your back for the entire night, that is.

My mark was a house: plain and sububrial-like; white walls, blue shutters, four bedrooms. The mailbox read '_West_'.

Inside, I could see through the window, was a middle-aged man. White, brown hair, built like the average man, a thick mustache, and held his beer can like it was his bible. The man's name was Robert, more commonly known as Rudy.

Contrary to the belief held by most of the Leaugers, Mr. West wasn't… exactly stable. Sure, he could hold himself up and put on appearances to make him look like he was a fit father, but I knew more about him because of Wally's stories.

Mr. West was always aggressive, even during his childhood when he was a bully. Even when he was with Mrs. West and Wally, he would always demand attention and perfection from the two of them. Needless to say, it was a good place to start, if any.

It was already nine o'clock and Mrs. West wasn't home. It was only Mr. West, sitting on his glorified ass, watching television. In the pit of my stomach, I had half a mind to barge in there, and punch him. Make him tell me everything he knows… knew, about Wally. And answer some other questions. But it would have to wait. I needed to observe before interacting – learn before action.

It was 9:00 by the time the Mrs. came home. She parked in the driveway, even though there was an empty garage spot. When she entered the house, she was expected to get Mr. West's affairs in order: get him another beer, another bag of chips, and get the remote that fell from the couch an hour ago.

Mrs. West, whose name was Mary, had orange hair just like her son; she was thin, but she looked her age: weary and tired, she couldn't hide the effects of age.

I heard a _cshhh_ and focused my binoculars into the kitchen, and saw that she had dropped a couple of plates. As she hastily tried to pick up the pieces, Mr. West surged into the kitchen, only to yell at her. From what I could pick up, the words 'clumsy', 'stupid', and other, more vulgar, words were used. But, what really got my blood boiling was the fact that he _slapped_ her. And then had the balls to walk away from her like he hadn't done anything wrong.

Through my binoculars, I could see a tear go down her face.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

As they say, all great things come in threes. Actually, I'm just bsing you – I don't really know if anyone said it, but open a book. More often then not, there are three main characters. Luke, Leia, Han; Harry, Ron, Hermione; Dumb, Dumber, Dumbest?

Anyway, I had changed my position on the third night, wary of keeping in the same place in consecutive nights. My vantage point was a little better, but I couldn't hear anything like I could make out the night before.

That night, they were home together, watching TV. And I sat there, on the roof of a neighbor's house, looking intently while munching on pepperoni pizza. Even though I was only there for a night, I could tell that this was their routine, albeit Mrs. West arrived home earlier than nine o'clock that night.

The basics would be: he would come home, she would come home, she would make food, they would eat, and he would relax for the rest of the night while she attended to him or "relaxed" with him. But I could tell, with the way that she sat – rigid posture, taught muscles – she was nervous, while he was oblivious.

It wasn't until it was midnight, when everyone else had turned in, and they had finally turned off that goddamned television that I made my move. I swooped down, landing on the lawn, and then, jumping up to the second floor window, opening it, went in, surrounding myself with the shadows.

I was in their room; he came in first, then her, turning on the light as she came in. At that second, I let loose a Batarang, which embedded itself into the wall as the lights flickered on.

"Ahh!" she screamed, fumbling back.

"Arg!" he yelled, moving forward to punch me in the face.

I stepped into it, crouching down below the punch and then used his own weight to flip him around, so he crashed into the wall, and was facing the center of the room.

"Calm down, I'm not here to fight," I said, holding up my hands. Mrs. West still looked terrified, and Mr. West was in a daze. I narrowed my eyes. "I'm here to talk about Wally."

Mrs. West recoiled, like she had been slapped, while Mr. West quickly came out of his daze and jumped to his feet again.

"Really?" He asked, his voice raising, pointing his finger at me. "You want to talk about that _freak_?"

"You do realize," I asked, "that Wally is…"

"Dead? Yeah, we get it: he's six feet under. _So what_!" Mr. West jabbed my chest with his finger and I had half a mind to rip it off and shove it up his –

_Sniff, sniff_. Mrs. West was trying, and failing, to cry silently. She was convulsing on the ground, and I turned to look at Mr. West, who only look on her with disgust.

"Mary, _get up_. Your son is _dead_, get _over it_. It's not like he was any good to us anyway."

"We were never good to him!" She screamed, sobbing even harder.

And he brushed past me and grabbed her wrist, dragging her up to his eye level. She screamed in pain. "Never, ever, talk back to me, woman," he spat in her face.

But I had had it. I surged forward myself, jabbing him in the kidney and grabbing his own wrist, squeezing, hard. He cried out in pain and Mrs. West dropped to the floor, holding her wrist tight to her stomach. I twisted his wrist behind his back and shoved him across the room.

"Hands off, buddy," I said to him, eyeing him angrily. I turned around and helped Mrs. West up, asking, "Why weren't you at the funeral?"

She started to respond, but it was droned out by Mr. West's, "We didn't go to that damn funeral because we don't want anything to do with that good-for-nothing –"

_Schwing_. I had taken the Batarang embedded in the wall and threw it across the room, and it landed in the piece of wall next to Mr. West's head. "Don't interrupt," I said, facing back to Mrs. West.

But she closed her mouth, and opened her eyes wide. With the tears coming out of her eyes, they looked so much larger: the brown irises looked like orbs of earth, solid and true. But I couldn't tell why she was feeling the emotions emitted form her being. I wasn't that good, _yet_.

She made a few feeble attempts to answer, but nothing came out of her mouth. Mrs. West was bound by her husband and refused to break through her fetters. I recoiled, looking at her, disgusted. And I turned around, facing both of them.

"Does this mean anything to you?" I brought up my wrist and put a projection of the poem on the wall:

It's here I find communion,  
Laid out as a lamb,  
Through it I will find,  
Only what's within.

Again, silence. Nothing. Mr. West didn't break eye contact with me and Mrs. West adverted her eyes, refusing to meet with mine. She wouldn't say anything, at least not with him in the vicinity.

"I'll be back," I said, and turned to face the window. With one last glance behind me, I jumped out of it, landed on the lawn, and took off into the night. Before I left the lawn, I heard a resounding _SLAP_ coming from the bedroom. Mr. West must have hit her again, but had neither the sympathy nor the patience to care.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"I hope your stay was satisfactory, Mr. Smith," the woman said to me as I got on the T-Cycle after I had returned the key. But I didn't respond. I had one last thing to do before I left Blue Valley. And my mind was completely focused on it.

I drove back up the familiar route, dressed in my civvies, with my black sunglasses. The morning, before embarking, I hacked into the UPS system and found that there was a package being delivered for a Mr. Robert West. It was too good of an opportunity to miss.

So, with the package in hand, I drove off to Wally's parent's home under the guise of delivering a package. It was eight o'clock when I got to the front door; I had parked the T-Cycle down the street, so they wouldn't see it.

I stood in front of the door, just… looking at it for a time. And my thoughts drifted towards Wally. I wondered… what was it like for him, growing up in that house, living with his parents? Was he happy, sad? Did he deal with it like any other teenager?

From what I could tell, his parents were total dicks; they didn't care about Wally. That was evident enough in their actions. But they _were_ his parents. It was, as the Question pointed out, to start at that angle. Perhaps they would've provided something useful, if they would talk. But Mr. West was too pigheaded to do anything and Mrs. West was too subservient. I would get no where with them, and after spending near a week already in my journey, I wasn't going to waste any more time than necessary.

_Ding dong._

I heard the shuffling of the feet, and Mr. West came to the door quickly. He didn't even look at me, and just grabbed the package in my arm and retreated to the den, leaving his wife to tend to the actual logistics. I looked at her and saw that she had a bruise on the right side of her face. Obviously, she stayed home that day – there was no covering a bruise that nasty. But today, she also looked so fragile, much more so than yesterday.

"What do I sign?"

"Signature's not necessary, ma'am," I said, almost biting my tongue as I said 'ma'am' as she was sizing me up. _She _obviously noticed how young I was. She moved to close the door, but I stuck my foot in the door. "Mrs. West… if you think of anything – _anything_ – that think would help in my investigation of Wally's death, please… call me here."

I handed her a card, and she tentatively took it, realizing who I was.

"Your son was very important to me, and I don't think he committed suicide. But I can tell, already, that I think you and your husband were a contributing factor. You might want to think about that when deciding whether to call me or not. And you should talk to your brother-in-law. He's probably feeling a lot crappier than you are at this point."

"How – how dare you!" She whispered in a harsh tone.

I leaned forward and glared at her with my sapphire eyes. "No, how dare you. Not even going to your own _son's_ funeral. Call Barry if you ever need someone to take out the trash for you. I don't think I could stomach either of you."

And I walked away, leaving her stunned at the door, until Mr. West sharply called, "Mary! I need another beer!" And she closed the door, getting the fat cat his drink.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Awesome. I'm so happy, you have no idea xD. I spent from 10-12 writing this because I got such a gust of inspiration. Well, I hope you enjoyed this and please understand that the negative view I presented Wally's parents as is partially true with respect to the comics. To tell you the truth, I was a little surprised at how they were portrayed in 'Downtime'.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!

Thanks !


	5. Chapter 4: Foraging Paths

**Chapter Four: Foraging Paths**

**Story so far:** Left to his own devices as The Tribute, Dick decided to go to Blue Valley, Nebraska, the home of Wally West's parents. Because they didn't show up to the funeral, and the fact that they're his parents, Dick believed that they could provide insight to the poem, presumably left by Wally. However, it soon became clear that Mr. and Mrs. West wanted nothing to do with Wally, so Dick left, telling Mrs. West, who showed at least some compassion, that she could contact him with any information that came to mind. Now, Dick is on the road again, armed with only his wits and the data from the scene of Wally's death, thanks to The Question.

* * *

I didn't understand, and I didn't _want_ to understand: they were his family. So why couldn't they just help him? Why couldn't they be good parents to their dead son? Maybe I was just holding too high of an expectation on them, after all, Wally never really talked about his parents, and Barry would always steer the conversation away from it, but it was an important part of his life. I had needed to know.

That didn't make me any less cynical. But it did tell me where to go next.

There was a certain pair of cities, one right next to the other, and both had been hosts to all three of the Flashes: Central City and Keystone City, where we buried Wally. Although Barry originally lived in Central City, Wally had decided to move to Keystone City, to start his path to becoming a full-fledged Flash, not to mention Jay Garrick lived in Keyston – he was the original Flash.

I guess that was the reason why we were drifting apart in the last few months… I mean, hell, I'm fifteen, freshman year in high school – at Gotham Academy no less – doubling as the son of one of the most well-known people in the world. While I was doing my own thing, Wally and I didn't see much of each other out of work. Sure, a movie here and there, maybe a pizza or two, but that was it.

You don't know how much I regret that.

"Hey! Watch where you're – oh forget it," I muttered, dodging yet _another_ person cutting me off to get in front of me. Seriously, just because I'm on a motorcycle doesn't mean it gives you the right to cut me off! Or maybe it was because my eyes were blurry from looking a screen for hours before turning off autopilot and driving the T-Cycle manually.

_Beep, beep!_

"Tribute, talk to me."

"Tribute? Damn, do I have the wrong channel? Wait, I've never even heard of a Tribute… Who is this?"

"Artemis? Is that you?" I said, laughing. "It's Robin, well _was _Robin – now Tribute."

"Yeah, Artemis here; we have things to talk about. You're heading there?"

"You don't have a trace on me, do you?"

"Robin, you're on the R-Cycle… It's automatically patched into our team's tracking system."

I swerved a bit in surprise. "I was sure that I knocked it off the JL's radar, and it's _The Tribute_."

"Probably did, but –" I heard something like clashing metal, "the team's signal is on a different patch."

I mentally kicked myself. "Right, forgot about that."

"You're slipping." It wasn't a question. "Meet me at the corner of Sussex and 9th."

"Will do, Artemis. Tribute, over and out."

In hindsight, I really was surprised to hear from any of my teammates, let alone Artemis. I was half-expecting the _other_ resident archer, even it was still awkward from the drugs. It would have been fitting, but I was still nonetheless glad to hear a familiar voice.

Better a tiger than a bat.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"You're getting better at lurking," I remarked, pretending to look up at the stars. I was dressed in my civvies, and if you don't know what those look like, you've either forgotten my previous description of them, or just have bad memory; basically, jeans, tee-shirt, and shades. Gotta love the shades.

I had arrived in Keystone City just an hour ago, and decided to wait to set my stuff until after I saw Artemis. Setting up in motels was getting interesting, especially how generic they all seemed to be. After all, it had been about two weeks since I left Gotham, and I hadn't heard anything from Bruce.

I ignored the pain in my chest when thinking about him. It was easier to pretend I didn't care.

"You're getting better at looking cute," Artemis said, dropping down from above. Even though the street was deserted, I didn't like the fact she was showing her skill openly.

"I don't know whether to thank you or be offended at the thought of you complimenting me," I replied, laughing. We looked at each other and hugged. "It's good to see you again, Artemis."

"Dude, chill. It's only be like… two and a half weeks." She smiled and flipped her hair back and I saw something in her hair. It was the normal blond, but I could've sworn I saw some orange roots. I decided it was just me imagining things, since it was night. She was wearing a white shirt, a leather jacket, and jeans. There was a cute bracelet on too, one that she hadn't been wearing last time we saw each other. We looked almost normal, like a couple.

"So, what brings you to Keystone City?" I asked, as she put her arm around mine and began to walk.

"Whatever brings you to Keystone."

"Hehe, that doesn't answer my question."

"Why, you don't know why you're here?"

"No, I know perfectly well" I'm here to complete what I started when Wally died: figure out exactly what happened." I took my arm away from hers.

"And I want to help," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "He was my friend too, and something just doesn't seem right about it."

"Personally, I want to know where you've been, Artemis.

"A little here, a little there. I've been almost everywhere, _Dick_."

I recoiled, like I had been slapped. "How?"

"You and Bruce aren't the only detectives in the world, Dick. I kinda like that – can I call you Dickie?"

"I swear to God I will –"

Now she lowered her voice to a dangerous whisper. "Will what? Silence me? Short of _killing_ me, how exactly do you expect to do that?"

"You still haven't answered my question," I replied, getting into an offensive stance.

"I have my sources, just as you and Bruce have yours." She shrugged. "Do you want my help or not?"

I sighed. Weighing the options, I was tentative about saying yes. It was baffling that she found my identity, let alone _Bruce's_, but maybe an extra pair of eyes would help me. After all, even though it wasn't my first time in Keystone, I was still new to the area. I'd only gone there three times, and once was for Wally's funeral.

"Fine. Are you staying anywhere?"

"Yeah, the Mariot – Presidential Suite. I've already taken the liberty of transferring your stuff there."

My mouth dropped and she just smiled. "Does the word 'discreet' mean anything to you?"

"What's more discreet then the orphan, heir to a fortune, trying to find some peace?"

"I'm not an heir to a fortune, though…"

"Who said _you_ were the orphan?" she asked, winking. "I've been undercover for the past week, no one knows I'm here. And it'll stay that way."

"Why do I feel like you know something I don't?"

"Well, let's just say hell ain't that far away." She took my arm again, and we walked off. Little did I know that we were being followed, but I saw Artemis glance back for the briefest second, and then I knew.

I guess I was developing sonar too.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"Like I said, _discreet_? The is so _creet_ it's… creeting…"

"That makes absolutely no sense, Dick," she replied from the other room; she was getting dressed while I was setting up my equipment. "You can't just take off prefixes and assume they're words."

"I can assume anything I want – nyaaa." I stuck out my tongue at her. My computer was hooked up and linked to the satellite and I brought up my evidence on one wall and my notes on Wally's death on the other.

She came back into the room in nothing but pajama bottoms and a sports bra – a _green_ sports bra. "So, this is what you have?"

"Yeah, treat the projections like touch screens," I said. I was sitting in the rolling chair, typing away on the key board while simultaneously taking in everything in the room. The main atrium was through the door to this room, and I was next to Artemis' room. On the other side were two other rooms: a sun room and a lounge room. My bedroom was spacious, but simple. A large bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a table.

Too many escape routes to count.

"That screen," I said, pointing to the one on the left, "is all the data that Batman, the Question, and the Elongated Man put together. That's three of the best detectives right there in those files. The other screen has my notes, including the poem he left, but neither I nor Wally's parents could make anything of it."

"You talked to his parents?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Let's just say that it wasn't… pleasant."

"What's the poem?"

I brought it up and read it aloud: "It's here I find communion / Laid out as a lamb / Through it I will find / Only what's within."

"Well… have you tried the literal interpretation?"

"What?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Well, you all were probably trying to connect it specifically to Wally, right? And I'm pretty positive none of the people you mentioned are English Majors. Take the first line: 'here' could have symbolized Mount Justice – our headquarters – and 'communion' is what religious people believe is their spiritual sustenance. It would make sense, right?" She crossed her arms. "We were his friends, so there he would be ok – mentally anyway."

"You got all of that from one line?"

"Hey, I'm no boy wonder, but I'm not stupid. I _like_ English, especially Emily Dickenson." She shrugged. "Anyway, the second line makes it weird though. Why would, presuming my interpretations of the first line are correct, we be sacrifices? Lamb, sacrifice, it's all synonymous."

"Sacrifice? Hm… maybe he loved us so much he felt he had to sacrifice himself?"

"Dick, don't ever be an English Major," she replied, shaking her head. "No, this is something deeper, I think. Something was going on when he died, that caused serious reflection on his part… I feel like he was traumatized and didn't like what he found."

"You realize you're talking about Wally, right? Carefree, happy? We _are_ talking about the same KF here, right?"

"Maybe. That's just what my gut's telling me, but we all know how dangerous it is to follow my gut," she said, tugging at her arm.

"You're still blaming yourself for that _one_ botched mission? Look, Spee – Red Arrow knew what he was doing. It wasn't coincidence that we found him ODed barely alive. You did the right thing to go after the Supervillian bent on killing then tending to a hero who messed his life up." My got butterflies in my stomach just talking about Roy's accident'.

"He almost died. Took him months to get back to his former ability."

"He got the help he needed, and there's nothing more to it. Now, do you want to go through the evidence?"

"Sure," she replied.

It was about a year after Young Justice formed and we were called in through a distress call from Roy. It appeared that Merlyn was finally fed up with Green Arrow and was trying to get back at him by killing Roy. We had gotten to Star City relatively quickly and Artemis disappeared from the group, intent on going after Merlyn alone.

Wally and I went to go find Roy, while M'gann, Kaldur, and Conner went to go rendezvous with Green Arrow, who was Zeta-beaming in from the Watchtower. It took a long time, but I eventually found a trail laid by Merlyn and we found Roy in a warehouse, with heroin inside of him. Originally, we all thought that it was Merlyns doing, but we found out that he had been doing heroin for months. There _was_ no hit on Roy's life – Merlyn was just trying to destroy Green Arrow's faith in partnerships.

It worked.

He pretty much severed Roy from his life and made Roy leave Star City after M'gann brought him there, knowing our location via telepathic link. Artemis, who had gone after Merlyn, came back without beating Merlyn. KF had blamed her for this, saying that if they had all gone after Merlyn, then they wouldn't have found Roy and Green Arrow wouldn't have found out. It was flaws logic, but KF was like the heart of our team, and M'gann followed suit and they didn't trust her judgment after that.

Kaldur tried to be as objective as possible and Conner didn't know _what_ to feel. I was just going through the motions at that point. In fact, looking back on it, she reminded me a lot of myself back in the beginning of Young Justice. I never faulted her for why she did what she did, especially because I put Roy before anything else.

"Do you see this?" She asked.

I got up from my seat and looked at the evidence she was looking at. Upon further inspection, it was the Elongated Man's. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"There's nothing. _Nothing_. No trace of anything. Except for the note, right?"

"Right."

"Take a look at what he wrote about the ink."

I read it verbatim, 'Although Batman and Question have gone through all the obvious unobvious aspects of this case, I focused on the unobvious obvious; specifically, the substance that the note was written with. It was obvious that it appeared to be from a paint-based substance, but there was no smudging or blotching – it was perfectly drawn. Upon further inspection, there were no particles of _anything_ on the wall.'

"So?" I asked.

"So, if there were _no_ particles, it was just the wall."

"That means that words _couldn't_ have been on the wall. But… why were there words then?"

She shrugged. "You should probably and examine the wall for yourself."

"I'll put that on my list of things to do. Did you see anything else interesting?"

"You really haven't looked at any of this, have you."

"No, no I haven't," I slouched and ran my hands through my hair. "I know, I know. I need to be better. It's just that… I don't even know anymore."

Artemis came over and knelt down next to me, putting her hand on my back. "Hey, look. I'm not saying that this is going to be easy, but you need to be more prepared."

"I know, I know."

"Get some rest, Dick. We'll talk more in the morning." I looked at the clock and noticed that it was 1 A.M. "Good night."

"Yeah, good night." She closed the door and I shut off the computer.

The nerve of that girl. _Of course I had looked at the evidence_. What did she take me for, a newbie? I looked at it on the way to Keystone – thank _God_ for autopilot on the T-Cycle. Despite looking extensively at the evidence, nothing was really out of place. Everything was as it should be, but still, _something _in my gut was telling me differently.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"That was his school," I said, pointing out the building with 'Keystone High School' on it.

"What do think to find there?" We were dressed in our civvies and, as far as I knew, neither of us had gone out as Tribute and Artemis, the archer at least.

"If there's a cause for him to commit suicide, it would be here, or at least I expect it to be here. We didn't know much about his school life other than the fact that most of his day was waiting to go to Mount Justice."

"True, but there isn't much that we _can_ do here – we don't have I.D's," she replied.

"Ah, while you were sleeping, I was making said items," and I handed her one.

"Nicole Petrosino?" She looked at me incredulously.

"I could've made you Paula Deen."

"Fair enough…" She wanted to know my new name.

"Damian, Damian West." I made it so that I was related to Wally as his cousin. We could get in, get his stuff, talk to his friends, without anyone knowing the difference.

"Clever." She nodded in approval.

A bell resounded through the immediate area, and we moved in unison to the side doors that were opened between periods. We slipped in without anyone noticing – both of us masters at disappearing in plain sight. Before we got there, we had memorized the layout of the building, thanks to specs Artemis got, somehow.

I didn't ask questions I didn't want to know the answers to.

"Office, meet at Cafeteria," she whispered in my ear.

I walked towards the Main Office while she went to the Cafeteria. No one paid me any mind as I walked into the room. There were two receptionists, so I just went to the closer of the two.

"Excuse me, Miss? I'm here to pick up Wally West's things."

The woman, named Mrs. LaGreca, was a kind, black woman. "Child," she said, looking over her glasses, "Mr. Allen sent you?"

"Yeah, he's my uncle."

"ID please," she said, as I handed it to her. "Damian, such a _nice_ name. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, for your loss. Here's," she wrote something on a piece of paper, "his locker number and combination." She handed it to me. "If you need anything, anything at all, just say the word."

"Thank you ma'am," I replied, leaving the office.

It was then I decided not to meet Artemis until I walked the halls my former teammate had. A sobering experience, if anything else, and as I walked, I imagined him laughing and running through the halls, saying hi to people I knew didn't exist. I could have sworn, at that moment, I felt something on my shoulder like a hand, but when I turned, no one was there.

And then I stopped, dead in my tracks. In front of me was Wally's locker, the one place of his that I'd never seen before. My hand shook violently as I reached to spin the lock – the numbers: 32-9-4.

When I opened it, my heart sunk and I started to cry.

Pictures of me – well, Robin – were hung everywhere. Sure, there was an occasional Superboy or Red Arrow or Miss Martian, but I saw myself everywhere. Our best battles, news clippings, even published fan-art.

"Hey, you," called out a voice.

I turned and saw a beautiful girl run straight into me, knocking me over, which was a surprise, considering I should've been able to dodge her, let alone hear her.

"Um… Is there a reason why you're on top of me?" I asked, fixing my glasses and getting back up, also bringing her up along with me.

"Yeah, why're you opening Wally's locker?"

I looked at her: I could tell she was Korean, with deep black hair and amber eyes. And as she said 'Wally' my heart grew lighter. "You knew Wally?"

"Uh, yeah. Best friend: Linda Park. You are?"

"Damian, his cousin." I extended my hand, which she took. "So… you and Wally were close?"

"The closest… well, maybe not as close as him and Tommy."

"Tommy?"

"Yeah, Tommy Moon."

"What kind of a last name is Moon?"

"He's Native American."

"Oh…" I said, but I wasn't really listening. I was more interested in the contents of the locker. Surprisingly, there wasn't any Flash or Kid Flash memorabilia. "Why isn't there any Flash or Kid Flash stuff in here?"

She wrinkled her nose. "We never really liked the Flashes. They're nice and all, but they're by far the heroes that cause the most collateral damage. We like Batman and Robin the best – especially Wally, he always had a thing for Robin."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my jaw dropping.

"Yeah, he adored Robin: always said he wanted to be just like him when he grew up." She put her hands on her hips. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I hadn't talked to Wally in forever, which I regret – you have no idea – so if you could tell me _anything_ about him, that'd be great." I looked down at my feet while I was talking to her, my hands in my pockets.

"I mean, he wasn't depressed or anything, not that I could tell. You should go talk to Tommy, he'd know more."

"Why?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Wally and Tommy were together."

"To…gether?"

"You're Wally's cousin… and you didn't know he was gay?"

"Woah, woah, woah. Back up," said a voice behind me – as I turned, I saw it was Artemis, glowering at me. "What is this about Wally being gay?"

"Um, yeah, asian-chick?" Linda asked raising her eyebrow. "Who're you?"

"I'm –"

"She's my girlfriend," I said quickly, drawing her into my arms, much to her apparent chagrin. "Now, you were saying about Wally and his… boyfriend?"

"Hehe, no. Something doesn't seem right about this," Linda said, her eyes narrowing. "Prove it: prove you're together."

"N-!" Artemis said before I roughly pushed my lips against hers. I had closed my eyes to make it more believable, and I just prayed she did the same. And then she bit on my lip, hard enough for it to hurt, but not hard enough for me to scream out in pain.

"Oh… Nicole… how I _love_ you," I said, as we pulled back, my lip visibly redder.

"Oh how I _love_ you too," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Well," interjected Linda, "I'm convinced. Anyway, yeah. Tommy and Wally hooked up a couple months ago. We were a trio, us three, until they got together and then I became a third wheel…"

"Um… hey, Linda," I said, "no offence, but what about _Wally_?"

She had this look on her face like she was just about ready hit me upside the head. "_Fine_. I mean, they were a great couple, and they were getting really far into the relationship, but then there was –"

And then the bell rang, with students pouring into the hallway.

"Aw, crap. I've got to get to class," Linda said, starting to walk off.

"Wait, Linda! You didn't finish!" I called out to her.

"Um… meet me at here after school ends! I'll bring Tommy too! I've got to go, bye!" And then she was off, into the crowd.

I turned to Artemis and said, "I… I guess we wait."

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"What else didn't we know about him?"

If I could categorize my depression from suck to holy-crap-I-hate-my-life, it would probably be past the latter. Here I was sitting on the roof, wallowing in self-pity because my dead best-friend kept secrets… from me. From _me_.

"Dude, don't beat yourself up about it," Artemis said, "Because I'm going to beat the crap out of you for what you pulled back there."

"Look, I did the first thing that came to my mind; deal with it."

"Dick… seriously. You couldn't have known, _none of us knew_."

"Really?" I glared at her. "I've known him since we were kids. I _should_ know."

Did Barry know? Did _Roy_ know? What about Batman, had he suspected? Did they know something I didn't?

I felt a tear land on my thigh and I realize, for the third time in over six years, I was starting to cry. I felt two hands on my shoulder, and then felt Artemis envelop me in a hug.

"I'm sorry, Dick, I really am. But this won't help him – this won't help you. Now, pull yourself together, because the bell's going to ring soon."

"I just need a moment."

"Fair enough."

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"That's them?" I heard him say as Artemis and I approached.

"Yeah, that's Damian and that's Nicole," Linda said as she pointed us out.

Admittedly, I had to calm myself down a little bit as we got closer: this was Wally's apparent _boyfriend_. What was he like? Did he have anything to say about Wally? You know, lately, everything has been questions – I didn't know anything, didn't know what was going on.

I wanted answers. And I wanted them now.

"Tommy?" I asked, extending my hand while examining him. He was built and strong, with tan skin fitting of his heritage; he had black hair and dressed with an undershirt, collared, button-down shirt with tight jeans. I could see an earring in his left ear and a ring on his pinky.

"Linda told me you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah… Um… Linda said you and Wally were… boyfriends?"

"That's right," he replied, staring straight at me. "I'm gay and he said he was bi."

"And you didn't think so?" Artemis asked, catching on the omission of certainty in Tommy's voice.

"No, I didn't. He had a classic overcompensating attitude. He practically hit on every girl in the school before he finally worked up the courage to ask me, and then an annual retreat in the mountains with the rest of my tribe in the mountains for him to accept his… homosexuality."

While he was talking, I took the opportunity to look around at people. No one was really paying attention, and those who could hear didn't bat an eyelash at the nature of the conversation. There were, however, a lot of disgusted looks going straight towards Tommy, and I couldn't tell if it was because he was Native American or gay.

"And then what?" Artemis asked, drawing him on. She slapped me on the arm; as if I wasn't paying attention. There just some guy staring directly at me at the end of hall. He was muscular and built, but not overly so; strong in the face, he had a square chin and a pointed nose: he was white, and had short brown hair and blue eyes.

"He never really accepted his sexuality and he was slowly getting depressed, but it all turned to hell when this one kid, Andrew, confronted us at school," Tommy said, and I perked up. "We were walking in the Commons and he called Wally a good-for-nothing faggot that should just go die and everyone around us laughed, which is why I'm not being made fun of right now. Everyone's afraid I'm going to off myself any minute.

"Tradition tells me that Wally has moved on to a better place, so I'm dealing and grieving more silently than others and Linda, well…" She had begun to turn opposite us towards the lockers, and I could see drops of tears fall to the floor. "She's holding up." He put his hand on Linda's shoulder and squeezed tightly.

I, however, was more focused on how hard I was clenching my fist. "So you're telling me, that this all started, because some kid decided it was ok to call him a… a…"

"Faggot?" Tommy put in for me.

"Just tell me where I can find him."

"Well… he's right over there." Tommy pointed to the end of the hall, where the kid with the brown hair was still staring at me. "That's Andrew."

"Nicole… we have some shit to clean up."

~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

Nighttime: my favorite time, the time I get to punch the crap out of people who are otherwise worthless to society. I never really got pleasure out of the beating aspect, but I had thought that night was going to be different: I knew I wasn't out there for justice.

I was out there for vengeance.

After we met with Tommy, we went back to the Mariot and regrouped. I didn't talk at all, more focused on imagining different ways to severely injure a person without any lasting physical harm. It was actually really fun.

So there we were, sleuthing on the roof opposite The Joint, the local hovel for teens to hang out.

_SHHHHING._

"Woah!" I said, clamping my hands over my ears. We were still in our civvies, since I hadn't donned the costume yet. "What the hell was that?"

Artemis looked down at her wristband and looked at me straight in the eye. "I have to go, Dick. I'm really sorry –"

"Sorry?" I growled, my voice lowering. In hindsight, I suppose I sounded like Batman. "Tell that to _Wally_."

She looked at me. "I'm sorry," and she jumped off the roof, leaving me alone.

"Bitch."

To put it simply, I was stunned. I had no idea what to think or what to say. All I knew was that she left me. She _left_ me. Even as I said it in my head over and over again, it still wasn't dawning on me that everything in my life was going to hell. I left Bruce and the team, Artemis left me. What was going on in my life?

And then I screamed. I screamed until my throat was hoarse and tears were pouring down my face like an untamed river. I was convulsing and coughing, mucus coming out of my nose. Gradually, I quieted, feeling cold from my chest all the way to my feet and fingers.

Silently, I changed into The Tribute. All my sadness, all my grief… it turned into rage.

Andrew made a total of four mistakes. The first was calling Wally a faggot. I didn't know why he did it, or what caused him to, but I didn't care. The second was being obvious and having Tommy point him out to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The third was going out to a club in the middle of the night: it was one of the worst places to be – prone to _many_ accidents. The fourth mistake was going out into the dark alley to smoke a joint in the dark.

At least it made my vendetta a hell of a lot easier.

I dropped down in front of him, first. A swift kick to the solar plexus sent him flying back into the alley, knocking against the fence in the middle of it. I lunged forward, knocking the joint out of his hand.

There were basics steps to fighting: disorient, disarm, incapacitate. I had the first two down, but I was going to have fun with the third.

I violently punched his right shoulder with a left hook, stepping into it and turning. My right elbow connected with his chin, and I heard a sickening crack. I continued my turn and found my left fist connected with his solar plexus in the same area my foot had.

"Why?" I asked. It came out as a hoarse whisper, darker than Batman's normal tone.

"W-Why what?" His eyes were wide with fright and blood was already accumulating in his mouth.

"What makes you think," I punched him in the guy again, "it's ok to say faggot?"

He smiled. That bastard smiled at me and then I heard it: _Ssttp_.

He spat blood on my face. I punched him in the eye, turned into it and with the same arm put him over my rising knee, flipping him painfully onto the pavement. I stomped, hard, onto his chest and felt bones break.

"I will end you," I growled menacingly.

"Ha, ha, ha," he laughed, smiling.

"What so funny, asshole?" He pointed up, and as I turned to look, I felt my leg jerk up and I yelled. I was being pulled up by foot up to the roof, where Batman himself was standing, glaring at me.

Without thinking, my body moved on its own.

I punched Batman in the kneecap, using the impact to increase momentum as I lifted my chest. I had taken out a sharp object from my utility belt and cut the cord as Bats jerked back from the punch. As I cut the rope, I continued my flip, my feet landing on the edge of the building and then I pushed off in a somersault landing on the opposite roof of The Joint.

"Funny to see you here, Bats. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come looking for me."

"Robin, what are you doing?" He asked, as he prepared to jump. "I taught you better than this."

I began to run exactly when he pushed off. "You abandoned me worse than this." As he ran, I ran; as I jumped, he jumped. I could keep up with him, and with the ten second head start, I was maintaining our distance.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's beside the point, Bats."

"Really? Is beating up civilians, almost blowing up your cover the _point_?"

"Maybe, or maybe I'm finally starting to do what you could never do."

"Enlighten me."

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked him straight in the eye. "Care, Bruce. _Care_. About the people around me. Not about the crime, or the civilians. My _friends_. You could never do that. You don't _have_ any friends."

He didn't exactly frown, and from his eyes, I could tell he wasn't angry. When he stepped back, like he had been hit, I frowned myself. "You don't mean that, Dick. You're hurt, you're confused. Come _home_."

"Not until I do what I set out to do."

"To find out that Wally hung himself from his ceiling because he couldn't deal with it anymore? That the rope crushed his throat and let his life slip away? Do you really want to experience this any further? Let me _help_ you."

"If you wanted to give me help, you wouldn't have let me go out of that Batcave."

"Dick… regardless of how we feel right now, I can't let you do this anymore. I can't let you attacking civilians – innocent people."

"He was far from innocent Bruce," I said, walking up to him, looking him straight in the eye. "Did you know Wally was gay? That he kept it a secret from his team, from _me_. Me. I was his _best friend_. Did you know? Did Barry?"

"Dick, I'm so sorry."

"Save it for someone who cares, _Batman_. I'm going to prove this, whether you like it or not. On my terms. Just try and stop me, Bruce. Because I swear to God… I won't come back."

I turned around, and ran off.

I didn't look back.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So… do you want the good news or the _really_ good news? I'll just take the good news, since you've probably already figured it out: this was my longest chapter yet 3. And one of my favorite ones to write (the Prologue is still my favorite). The even BETTER news is that ALL my planning is done for this story, and, frankly, I love the ending. I can promise that you guys will hate me soooo much, yet love me to death.

Anyway, I apologize for making you wait so long, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to make a schedule of a chapter a week, most likely on Friday. I live on the East Coast of the US, just so you know for Fridays what time it is where I am. I don't want you waiting until 2 AM Friday morning, because I don't think I'd ever post that early in the morning xD. SORRY.

Well, thanks for reading, and, as always, please review! Reviews aren't just an ego-booster, they let authors know people are reading their work, let the authors know what's good and what's bad so that, in the future, the product can be better for you, the reader. Also, please review anything you read on here. Support the authors of the stories you enjoy! Not saying that it's my story you'll be reviewing, but please go out of your way to review others' stories.

Thanks again .


	6. Chapter 5: Reconsituting Bonds

**Chapter Five: Reconstituting Bonds**

**Story so far: **On his way to Keystone City, Dick gets a message from one of his old teammates: Artemis. After being gone from Gotham for two weeks, he's happy to see an old friend, but gets suspicious of her, even though she gives him insight on unraveling to mystery to Wally's poem. Together, they meet two of Wally's friends: Linda Park and his boyfriend, Tommy Moon. They also discover that Wally became depressed after an incident involving a kid named Andrew, who publicly denounced Wally's homosexuality. After Artemis leaves for unknown reasons, Dick, as The Tribute, thrashes Andrew to a bloody pulp, only to be stopped by none other than Batman. After a short meeting, Dick leaves Batman behind, vowing to continue his journey until finding out the reasons behind Wally's death.

* * *

"Push the 'on' button for important information regarding Wallace's death."

That was all the note said.

Of course, I wasn't much concerned with the tape as I was with the fact that when I got back to the apartment, everything was packed. Artemis was gone, and as I changed from my costume, I thought of a number of "accidents" she could have that wouldn't lead back to me.

It was fun, and I couldn't help but smile.

When I put the disc in, though, all that fun-ness suddenly became un-fun, or… not fun? I don't know. Point is: when Artemis came up on the screen, I was plagued by the desire to send my fist through the screen.

"Hi, Dick," she began, "I know we left off on a bad foot, but listen to what he has to say before turning this off."

Her eyes never met the camera as she spoke. Shuffling over to the left, Artemis went out of view as someone strode forward. I could only see their legs, the bottom of their torso; their face was covered in shadow.

"Greetings, Dick Grayson," my heart skipped a beat, "I am Terry Gene Kase." Judging buy the voice: male, aged mid-60s to 70s. "Let me begin with two things: first, I admire your diligence and expect you to continue your journey with all haste; second, a warning: when you put this disk into the television, it tripped a wire of my own design – you have approximately two minutes before this apartment explodes."

Oh… crap.

"Before you go, listen carefully: don't you find it curious that your detectives only considered physical evidence? Continue on your search, young Acrobat – poor Wallace's struggles _should_ be learned. Good luck.

"Oh, and twenty seconds left."

And the television blinked out.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…

Lucky me, changing from my costume. I grabbed my bag and a grappling hook. Without any time to check the bag to be sure that everything was in it, I did the only thing that occurred to me at the time: I jumped out the window. In civvies.

Wow, I was cool.

Just as my grappling hook attached itself to the opposite building, the apartment exploded, and I was sent spinning out of control mid-way through the jump. Of course, I was almost literally pissing myself, because I was more than twenty stories above the concrete, out of control.

How-to-be-Batman 101 did _not_ teach me how to control a dive _after_ being bombed.

"Ah!" I yelled, as I let go of the hook, pulling myself into a flip, landing painfully on the roof of the garage adjacent to the building opposite the hotel. Because of my computer, which was in my bag and therefore on my bag, I had to either land on my feet or my front.

Unlucky for me, I had to land on my chin, giving me a nasty scrape. As I became groggy, I attempted to pick myself up.

"Stay awake… Grayson…" I fished through my bag and grabbed the homing device for the T-Cycle – it would come to the front of the garage: one of the _best_ ideas Batman ever had was to install them on all the equipment.

"Ah." I grunted as I picked myself up, assessing the damage done. My left knee was hurt, probably already bruising; my right shoulder was bleeding a little bit. I took off my collared shirt, put it into a ball, and tied it around my neck, creating a make-shift bandage for the scrape.

I got to the bottom of the garage, via the stairs, and got onto the T-Cycle, which had got there a moment before. Already, I could hear the sirens from the police, and I didn't want to be around to be questioned.

Something that idiot said reminded me of something… I figured it was time to catch up with old friends.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

The last time we had talked, it didn't end so well. It wasn't that we were mad at each other, it was just that I was caring maybe a _little_ too much, and he thought I was being worrisome. It just escalated to the point where I had to let him be and do his own thing.

Roy was like that: independent and strong. But I still worried about him. I would always worry about him. Even if I was mad as hell at him. I mean, he was notably _absent_ from the funeral.

But that guy, Terry, was right: I had investigated Wally's parents, his social life – now it was time to talk to the only other person who knew him as well as Barry and I: Roy.

He was currently in New York, attending NYU on a scholarship. But there was only one problem: I couldn't drive for twenty hours straight because I was low on gas and was currently bleeding out of my neck.

Those didn't make for a happy combination.

I had gotten on the highway – I-70 E, and traveled for a good twenty minutes before stopping at a Gas station with a Convenience Store.

"Fill it up, 93," I told the gas guy, without removing my helmet. I had to keep it on and hope that no one would question the blood on my shoulder. There was no one around, which didn't concern me at the moment: I had things to get in the store while the gas was filling up.

The store clerk eyed me, but with my helmet still on and covered, I suppose I just looked like a young vagabond who just got through a fight. I found what I was looking for: Neosporin and Bandages; inside the T-Cycle was diluted Hydrogen Peroxide, which would sterilize the wounds, and the Neosporin would prolong the disinfectant.

"5.28," the clerk said, and I gave him a ten,

"Keep the change," I replied, walking out and giving the other man enough for the gas as well. Even with Alfred's credit card, I had enough hard cash for the moment. "Thanks," I said, and then drove off down the rode until I got to the edge of a river, secluded from the rest of the population.

"Ah…" I breathed out, removing my jacket slowly. It was bloody, but not as much as I expected. A quick match and my jacket and the evidence was up in flames, quietly burning to ash in a pre-made campfire site.

"Smart, but not too smart!"

I jumped up in a backflip, landing behind my would-be assailant. "And just who are you?" I asked.

"Your executioner."

I recognized the voice faintly, almost like it was someone I knew from my younger years – god, I'm starting to sound like an old timer. "Younger years": pfft, I've only been at this for three years.

The assailant stepped into the light of the fire and I saw his costume: definitely someone trained. He, yes it was a guy, had a red suit on, with yellow lines making an old style cross on his chest and continuing to his limbs. His face was covered with a mask similar to mine, and on his back were two sheathed swords.

"What? Don't remember me, Freddy? Or should I say Robin? Or are you going by another name?"

I froze. Again.

"Did I strike a nerve?" He unsheathed one of his swords and I stepped back, assessing the situation: I was unarmed, wounded, and he was between me and my ride.

Freddy wasn't a name that many people knew me by: only Batman, Shrike, his young students… Wait…

"Boone?"

"Argh!" He charged and I did another flip over him, dodging his swords and ran to my cycle, grabbing my bag, and started the engine. "You won't get away, Robin! I'll find you! I'll _kill_ you."

I was able to drive off without him following, which intrigued me, but I let out a sigh of relief. You see, this wasn't the first time I quit or Bruce has 'fired' me. There was this one time, I left him – this was during my first year as Robin – and found myself training under an assassin with a group of kids.

The assassin's name was Shrike, Boon was just another one of the kids. An _aggressive_ one. Batman and I had taken down Shrike and his training camp, but that didn't explain how Boone had found me nor why he wanted to kill me.

Obviously, though, he was sadly off his game. He was missing crucial information, or at least didn't really come out and say he knew I was the Tribute. Thankfully, though, he didn't seem to know who I really was, which only made me even more worried.

If two parties were after me, then something else entirely was going on. At least I knew that my trail wasn't getting any colder.

It would take me about a half hour of rapid driving before I was comfortable enough to stop and apply the bandages to my neck and shoulder. I was getting lucky: the damage to my neck wasn't severe enough to hinder my speech.

All the better for talking to Roy. I still had a job to do, and I still was a kid – guy? – on a mission.

I locked in my limbs to the T-Cycle so I wouldn't fall off and put it on autopilot, letting my guard down for the moment to sleep.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

Regardless of what anyone said about Roy, one fact remained true: he was smart, almost as smart as Wally, but definitely below the intellects of Barry and Ray Palmer. However, he _was_ smart enough to go to NYU on a full-ride, scholastic-based scholarship, which was strange considering NYU didn't _have_ scholastic-based scholarships.

I had gotten to New York at about 12 o'clock the next day – it marked the beginning of the third week away from the Batcave and Bruce.

And Alfred: I definitely missed Alfred and his sundaes.

But that was besides the point, and reminiscing wouldn't help me. I had found a garage to part my T-Cycle in and was able to pay the guy without him wondering exactly how old I was. Because, I really was shorter than average.

The city was very different from Gotham. Although they were both overly-populated cities with abnormal crime rates, New York City was substantially less corrupted, which was _so_ ironic, and it was considerably brighter.

I didn't know my way around the city, and I didn't know anyone other than Roy that would be able to show me around. I was dressed in my civvies, with my backpack on – inside was pretty much my whole life.

"Hm… I can't just show up unannounced… or can I?"

A quick hack into the New York University's mainframe, I saw that Roy would be in Ancient Greek History starting at 1:30, and accounting for the time it would take to figure out exactly where to go, by memorizing the New York City map of the local area, I would make it just in time.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"Can anyone give me some examples of homosexuality in Ancient Greece? Anyone?"

I walked in quietly, sleuthing into the back of the room, searching for a familiar head of red hair. The professor was a young woman, attractive too, which is why I supposed everyone was paying attention, even the guys. And then I spotted him, his hair under a grey hoodie.

In retrospect, it was kinda scary that I could pick him out by just his hair and his body. It just proved how close we were, I guess – either that, or I just an extreme sense of remembering people's measurements. Either way, I was _good_.

He raised his hand and said, answering the professor's question, "Pederasty was widely accepted as a viable form of relationship then: the romance between an older man and an adolescent male."

"Very good, Mr. Harper."

If I didn't already know before – which I did – by hearing his voice and his name, I knew it was Roy and got into the row behind him, sneakily. Some of the students gave me weird glances, probably because they'd never seen me before, but I wasn't too concerned.

I leant forward, next to Roy's ear, and whispered, "Hey, baby."

He jerked, making his books fall to the floor, creating a disturbance noted by others around him. The professor, however, continued her lecture without missing a beat.

"_Rob_?" Roy turned around abruptly and looked me in the face.

I punched him in those.

"There, now we're even," I said, smiling at him as he held his nose, looking at me with disbelief.

"For _what_?"

"Not going to Wally's funeral."

"I _was_ – I just didn't meet with you guys and left during the quake," he replied, his eyes narrowing angrily.

"Oh…" I replied. For the first meeting between us in over six months, it wasn't going very well. Well, making yourself look like an ass _never_ goes well.

"Yeah." He reached into his pocket and took out a tissue, stemming the blood beginning to drip from his nose. "Now, before you go on punching me again, I _get it_: we have to talk. You can either stay here with me, until the lecture's over, or you can take my keys and try to find my dorm room. Either way, _no more assaulting_."

"I'm… sorry, Roy." I quickly moved up the aisle and around to sit next to him, helping him pick up his books.

We were shoulder to shoulder, and when I looked at his face, at his green eyes, I remembered everything good about him. I remembered how close we were, the _three_ of us. As he chewed on his pencil, taking notes, while the professor droned on and on about relationships between men in Ancient Greece, my mind drifted back towards Wally.

And his secrets, secrets he kept from us, from _me_.

Roy was still strong, his muscles defined and toned; his hair was still the same color and length. It was almost as if he stood still in time. But there was one question I was burning to ask: was he clean? How had he been coping with the fact he stopped using drugs?

There was so much to catch up on, so much to talk about, but I had screwed up in the first five minutes by jumping the gun.

The class wasn't that long at all, only an hour and a half, and I spent most of it just looking at Roy, and going through my backpack, taking inventory. My costume and my laptop and all its accessories were good, extra clothes and money were still in there. I looked like nothing had been taken from the hotel incident, and I mentally kicked myself for not looking through it sooner: if I had left something then it would have been long gone.

"C'mon, we can go to my dorm: I have a single room, so we won't be disturbed." He got up and I followed suit.

And then I remembered that Roy was grown up now: he was twenty, a junior in college. A junior at a _prestigious_ college.

When we got to the room, he opened the door and ushered me inside. It was a cozy room, small enough for one person. There was a window opposite the door, a bed pushed up against the wall to the right of it, and a desk to the left. Adjacent to the door was a dresser and a closet.

Small, quaint; it was something out of a horror movie. I never did enjoy small spaces.

"So, aside from me punching you in the face… how are you?" I asked.

"Fine, coping, dealing. Not drugs though, mind you; I'm clean, have been since the… incident."

"Accident, you mean," I corrected him.

"No, it was no accident and you know it." He looked at me with stern eyes, like he was mad at me for defending him. Roy's eyes softened and asked, "So why are you here, other than the small talk? And what happened to your neck?"

"This brings me here," I replied, putting up all the information I had gathered up on a projected screen. "After the funeral, I decided to find out exactly why Wally allegedly did what he did."

"Allegedly?" Roy asked, eyebrows rising as he examined the data.

"You don't seriously believe he committed suicide, do you?"

"Rob, it's hard to ignore the facts, and they're all right here in front of you – wait, is that a _boyfriend_ I see?" He was looking at Tommy Moon's specs, which I had put in on the way to New York.

"Yeah, did you know that Wally was gay?"

"Um… this might be news to you, Rob, but I've known since Wally was fourteen," Roy said. My mouth was wide open, and I could only look at him. Before I had a chance to ask how, he continued: "He… kinda professed his love for me. Unfortunately, I had to say no, since: one, I'm not gay, and two: I was too old for him."

"But you _knew_… and didn't tell me!"

Yeah, I was pissed. Rightfully so – it's not everyday you find out that your best friend kept major secrets from you.

"Look, Rob, don't take it personally: he didn't tell _anyone_, except for me and his uncle."

"Barry knew?"

"Yeah, no one was closer to Wally than Barry and Iris, except maybe us. But, there were things that Wally didn't share with anyone."

"Like?" Now I was curious.

"The person who he _really_ liked. I mean, this Tommy guy, I think I remember Wally talking about him to me once, but he said that it was to explore what it meant to be gay first and foremost. When I asked him to elaborate, he said that he liked someone already, but he refused to tell me who," Roy said, crossing his arms and leaning on his desk. "Wait, what's that?"

"It's the poem that was left at the scene."

"Bring it up."

Honestly, I was getting sick of that stupid poem, but I brought it out nonetheless.

"I was talking with Artemis about this," I said as he read it. "She said something about him being traumatized before the deed was done."

"Unfortunately," Roy replied, "I'm inclined to agree with her. Honestly, I can't make heads or tails of it, but you should keep looking. He left it there for a reason."

"I know. But, speaking of Artemis, how much do you know about her?"

"Enough. Why?"

"After we tracked down Wally's friends and the kid that called him a faggot –"

"_What?_"

"Long story short, I beat the crap out of the kid," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

"Rob… are you ok? That doesn't sound like you," he said, coming towards me.

"Look, things got a little heated, and I lost my cool. It won't happen again."

"I hope so."

"Anyway, she _left_ me, and when I got back to the hotel we were staying at, there was a disc with a message on it, and she was on it with some guy, who knew my _name_, my _actual name_, and called himself Terry Gene Kase. And later, I get attacked by an enemy from my early days of being Robin. Those _can't_ be coincidences. Not to mention that after I put in the television, it triggered an explosion, which gave me the scrape on my neck."

"Have you treated it?" I nodded, "Good, and I agree that it's likely not coincidences, but I've never heard of anyone named Kase. As for Artemis, it's not my place to talk about her past, but I've grown to trust her. Have you thought about talking with Bats about this?"

I looked away, averting his gaze. "Batman and I aren't on speaking terms right now."

"That bad?" Roy asked, raising his eyebrow. "But you guys are the Dynamic Duo: emphasis on _dynamic_."

"Some things just can't be reconciled, I guess." I looked down at my feet, wishing that it would all just become as plain as day.

"I guess so… But that's all I can really offer at the moment, I mean, unless you want to stay a day or so. You can crash here."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, but I dunno. I think I just might continue my search."

"What's your next move?"

"Well, this Terry guy gave me the idea: all the detectives, The Question, the Elongated Man, and Batman only really considered the physical evidence, according to the data, so I was going to see if I could hack into the BatComputer and look up any mystical detectives."

"Hm… I think –"

'_Backup requested in Times Square: got a lunatic, calls himself the 'Rainbow Archer'. He's packing serious ammo, need assistance, now.'_

"That would be the police scanner," Roy said, turning around to his closet. He pressed a button on the inside of the closet, revealing a secret compartment with his Red Arrow costume. "What, did you think that just because I'm a college student I abandoned Red Arrow?"

"Hehe, the thought _never_ crossed my mind."

"I would always welcome some help, Rob."

"You know, Roy, I guess I can tag along. But just so you know," I said as we changed, "I'm called The Tribute now." I stood before him in my costume, and he nodded in approval.

"Does this mean I should call you Trib now?"

"No, you can call me Dick, short for Richard Grayson, to be exact."

"Richard… Grayson? The adopted son of… No way! No way, no way, no way! Bruce Wayne is Batman!" Roy smiled and laughed, just like we did when we were kids. "Well, that's clears _so_ many things up, like where the JL gets most of its funding. But, thanks for trusting me with your name."

"Hey, it's the least I could do."

Roy jumped out of the window, shooting an arrow to make a makeshift zipline, while I used my handy, dandy, trusty grappling hook.

God I loved those things.

~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"It's not fair! My art is supreme! It deserves _respect_! I _deserve_ money!"

God, this guy was so self-centered: I, I, I; me, me, me. Same typical psyche of the common criminal. Too bad this guy wasn't the common criminal. From what Roy told me, he was about the same skill as Roy with a bow, and had the creativity to back his skills up.

The Rainbow Archer, real name Albrecht Raines, was an artist who couldn't make ends meat. He was originally in Star City, with Green Arrow, until he migrated to New York, where Roy had to deal with him every couple of months.

It was just my luck that he decided to attack one of the most crowded place in the city on the day I came to visit Roy.

He was dressed in a purple jumpsuit, with a rainbow going across his chest, with a neck piece that reminded me of Boston Brand's. His bow was made of a dark-looking wood, and had a full quiver on his back.

"Stay away! Or I'll shoot the people!" To prove his point, he launched two arrows subsequently: one that embedded itself into a police car's tires, and the other into a hotdog cart, startling quite a few people.

Roy and I didn't have to speak, just one glance told us what we needed to do. As Roy went out to openly challenge him, I circled around the buildings, trying to get an opening.

"Come on, Raines, give it up," Roy yelled, as he stood in front of the police cars. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Really, Red Arrow? Well, I want to hurt _you_!" He notched an arrow as Roy did the same.

As Raines launched his, Roy sped forward, jumping up onto the abandoned cars, shooting at Raines as well. The latter jumped down from his perch, and launched a volley at Roy, who sent a stream of arrows back. Both of them were dodging and weaving, while at the same time continuing their assaults.

It almost looked like a sword dual, without the… you know, swords. Whenever Roy moved, Reich would move opposite, and vice versa. Roy purposely moved with the intent to keep Reich aiming at spots without civilians.

That is, until Reich caught on and started aiming at the police.

There wasn't much I could without giving away my position. In the heat of the moment, Roy jumped and caught one of the arrows in his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he took it out with a loud grunt and fired it straight back.

Reich was caught off guard and lost his balance dodging, giving me my opening. I went to use the grappling hook to get into my position, until:

"Argh!" I grunted, as I was kicked forward off my own perch, tumbling off the roof of the building. Thankfully, I had my grappling hook still in hand and used it to control my fall. "What the hell?"

And then I saw him drop down next to me, kicking at me again. Disoriented, I took the full brunt of it to my chest and was knocked back, but I was able to regain my balance and block his next punch and send a few back of my own.

It was Boone, again.

"What is your deal, Boone!" I asked, yelling.

"You, Freddy. Revenge, orders, you name it." That last bit intrigued me, but I was too busy focusing on the fact that he drew his swords, so I drew my staff. "Let's dance."

"Oh, I _so_ don't have time for this," I replied, ducking beneath his swords and rolling behind him. Coming up out of the curve, I struck with a sweeping attack at his legs. He jumped, and swung his swords at me. I blocked and struggled to keep the swords away from my face.

"C'mon, Freddy, you used to be better than this," Boone mocked.

"You're right, still am, always will," I replied, kicking at his knee cap, which sent him sprawling to the ground. A swift uppercut with my weapon to his chin sent him flying back, and I could tell he was out cold. "See, told ya so."

I turned around and ran back to my position to see that Roy was in quite a predicament. He was running low on arrows, and two cops were down. I saw one civilian clutching her leg, with an arrow sprouting from it.

"Damn," I said, looking for any sign of Reich. And then I saw him aim an arrow straight at Roy, who was running towards the woman. As he fired his arrow, I threw one of my discs, breaking the arrow in two, while simultaneously giving away my position.

"Haha! Two for the price of one!" Reich yelled as he sent two arrows my way. I quickly used my grappling hook again and got out of the arrows' way and closed in on Reich.

The reasoning was simple: if using a long range weapon, get in close to neutralize its effect. However, as I jumped, with a trajectory to land straight on Reich, he jumped down while simultaneously firing yet another arrow at me. I was able to adjust my position enough for it to avoid hitting me directly, but I could feel it go straight through my cape.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Roy take the woman to safety behind the police cars and notch another arrow. I jumped down, landing next to Reich and attacked him with my staff, directed at his right arm.

He blocked it with his forearm and kicked out. Using my staff, I got under his leg and swept up – he landed on his back. Roy appeared next to me, an arrow pointing straight down at Reich.

"Give it up, Reich: it's _over_," I said.

"Hehe, I suppose so." He laughed as I relaxed my grip on my weapon and moved to subdue him, but at the last second, he swept both of his legs, sending both Roy and I off balance and used his momentum to flip up, notching an arrow at the same time.

Immediately, I flipped back, controlling my fall, and simultaneously sent one of my disks straight at Reich's bow – the bow cracked from the impact and snapped in half. Reich looked at it and gripped it tight.

"You, you! You destroyed my bow! You destroyed my _art_! You. Will. Pay!"

He lunged at me, and sent a punch straight to his gut and a kick to his face. Reich was knocked back, sprawled on the ground, knocked out cold.

"And that is how we take care of business. Red Arrow, you ok?" I asked, helping him up.

"Yeah… what took you so long?" He asked, grabbing his shoulder.

"I was delayed by Boone, _again_."

"Again? Well, now you know it definitely wasn't a coincidence."

"I'm going to go check on him, can you handle the clean up?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Roy replied, nodding.

I went back to where Boone and I had fought, only to find nothing there. "God… where did you go, Boone?" I surveyed the area, but there was no sign of him, at least none that I could find.

So, I went back to Roy, only to find that the clean-up was going without a hitch. Ambulances were treating to the two police officers, the woman, and Roy. It was one of those things the medical people did to show their support of us: if a superhero was injured, they'd treat us. It was actually really nice of them.

"So, Red Arrow," I said, as I dropped down in front of him. "You said you could refer me to someone who could help me with my _predicament_?"

"As it so happens, I do," he replied, thanking the woman who had just finished treating him. "He's actually based here in New York and is one of the best detectives in the world, but he's not affiliated with the JL."

"Who is he?"

"Dr. Occult."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So here to the first update on a now weekly basis! *Here here*! This chapter was fun to write, especially the dynamics between Roy and Dick! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

On another note, I've started a collections of one-shots in collaboration with an artist on DeviantArt named Kisukaite, who you should totally check out! The title of the collection is: Clips Through Time. Be sure to check it out – the first story's already posted!

As always, please review!

Thanks, Mike :).


	7. Chapter 6: Mystical Leads

**Chapter Six: Mystical Leads**

**Story so far:** After being stopped by Batman, Dick finds himself surrounded on all sides: Artemis left a disc, which caused the hotel room to explode via a tripwire made by a man named Terry Gene Kase, then he's attacked by a man from his past named Boone. Throughout all the struggle, Dick finds himself in New York at the doorstep of one Roy Harper. After a heart-to-heart, where Roy reveals that Wally, in fact, had a crush on him, he tells Dick to keep searching for answers, because he feels something is suspicious. Subsequently, the Rainbow Archer attacks Times Square, and after another scuffle with Boone, the Tribute and Red Arrow subdue him. Now, Dick is being referred to Dr. Occult, to investigate any metaphysical connections to Wally's death.

* * *

"Thanks for all the help," I said, extending my hand to Roy. We were in front of his apartment building, both of us dressed in our civvies. He was still recovering from his wound, and I didn't want to hurt him.

But, brushed the hand away, and pulled me into a hug. I had gasp, but put my arms around his waist, my hands on the top of his back.

"If you ever need me," he replied, patting my back softly, "I'm just a call away – I still have the comm., and I'll be sure to keep you in the loop on my own investigation on the quake. But promise me, Ro – Dick: be careful."

I smirked. "I always am; I'll return the favor, and I'll call you the minute I find anything out."

"I'd like that."

As we ended the hug, I held his arms tight for a brief second. It was a moment I hadn't had in a long time, and as I looked into Roy's eyes, I remembered what I forgot: Although we hadn't talked in what seemed like forever, Roy and I had a bond, one similar with Wally – and even in the absence of him, I felt a piece of my heart mend. It was good to get back with Roy, even just to _talk_ with him.

And then reality set back in as quickly as it left, leaving me to walk the streets of New York towards my destination. I had decided to go in my civvies, because there was a fine line I had to walk.

More and more I saw a difference in the way I acted between my time in my civvies and suit. While I was Dick, I was calmer… relatively, and I could actually hold a conversation without getting the need to beat the other person to a pulp; however, when I was Tribute, I noticed I was acting increasingly like a violent Batman.

Civvies would do. I wanted to get the good Doctor to do me a favor, wanting to beat the crap out of me wasn't exactly the best way to get one.

I found myself in front of an old, decrepit door within an equally old and decrepit building. It made sense, since the Doctor had been active during the time of the JSA, and hadn't retired. He was older than most, but still just as good.

In all honesty, the building reminded me a lot of Gotham's. It just… exuded eeriness. Kinda made me feel at home. More importantly, I could literally feel an air of power about the area, and as I reached to turn the door knob, I stopped.

My hand was shaking, and I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

You see, everyone calls me the 'Boy Wonder', or at least thinks of me as such. _Wonderful_. How could I be such a wonder if I was too afraid that Batman was right, that everyone around me was right and I was just living in a glorified delusion?

Or I could by right.

My hand stopped shaking, and I pushed down the anxiety in my stomach.

"Everything I do, I do for you, Wally." And then, I shuddered – I felt a drop of water land on my shoulder. As I looked up, there wasn't a source I could see where the water could have fallen.

Shaking it off, I turned the door knob, and pushed the door open.

"No! Go back out and try to sneak up on me!"

"… What?"

There was only a single desk amidst many filing cabinets, and I could sear that all the wood in the room was old and rotting. The smell wasn't bad… it was just powerful. Surprisingly, it reminded me a lot of the cave on summer nights after it rained.

"If I was going to get a visit from a sleuther, then it needs to be geuine!"

"A… sleuther?"

The man sitting at the desk reminded me a lot of Bruce. He had a strong face, and although there were some wrinkles, he was still just as imposing; grey eyes, and thin black hair with a receding hairline. He was dressed in a brown trench coat, like the ones in those old black-and-white detective movies. The only distinguishing feature on him was that his eyes were lined with black – almost like a cross between poor mascara and baggy eyes from lack of sleep.

"Well," he said, sitting back down. "I guess it's not your fault, so never mind."

"What are you talking about?"

"Not what, boy; _who_."

"_Fine_: **who** are we talking about?"

"Why, you of course." He looked at me like I was crazy, and I clenched my fist, biting back a scathing retort.

"Me? What could you possibly know about me? I haven't even told you what I'm here."

"But, you of all people should know, what you don't say is just as important as what you do say, Robin."

"Tribute," I remarked casually. If he hadn't known my identity, I might have been a little more worried, since he was supposed to be a detective. The only problem was: how? To the best of my knowledge, I hadn't given any hint to my identity, which meant one of two things: he knew I was coming, or he's just that good of a detective. The former seemed more likely.

"No," he replied, standing up. "You're Robin right now. As soon as you said those words outside," I froze, "I thought of you as Robin. Until now, with your last word – now, you're definitely the Tribute."

"This isn't making any sense."

"But what really is sense? It's never sensible; you've never made much sense either."

I stepped forward, to enter the office, but I pulled back, my anxiety returning.

"Here," he threw me something. I caught it, revealing a twenty dollar bill. "Go, get me some Starbucks and come back. Triple Venti Cappuccino – easy on the sugar."

"What? No! I'm here for something _important_."

I edged to the side of the door, so he couldn't see my right arm, and I leant in to make it look casual.

"Your job can wait – go, or you'll get no help."

I got up off the side of the door and looked at him straight in the eye.

"I'll hold you to that, _Doctor_."

I closed the door and tapped the comm. device into my ear as I walked out of the building?

'_Must you do that?'_

A different voice than what the Doctor was using in the office, sounded older, _more experienced_. I continued to walk, listening through the bug device I planted on the side of the door.

'_Sorry, Doc – couldn't think of anything else to do.'_

That was the voice the Doctor had used… so why was it addressing the other voice as Doctor? My mind was running as I continued to walk, edging past inattentive people on cell phones.

'_No matter, now, back to the matter at hand, Br –"_

I tapped my ear: the connection was wavering. Trailing back, to create a stronger connection, I began to hear again.

'—_point of the matter is I can't see hi. My room reveals _all_ magic.'_

That was the new voice.

'_It's hard to explain, Doc – he's not magically based… it's more metaphysical, if you get what I'm saying. I took him to see the Spectre, who could see him – but the Spectre said it was out of his jurisdiction: someone's got the vengeance bit covered.'_

'_It's obvious who, too.'_

'_Of course, but the boy concerns me the most. If you _can't_ see him, but the Spectre _can_, this could transcend even the magical boundaries, leaving only… you know. Either way, I _have_ determined that he's not a soul, but more like an echo.'_

'_Which means we have to –"_

'_Wait.'_

'_What?'_

'_Kid bugged –"_

"Damn," I said, running back. "How did they find it? Ow!" I had knocked into a man, both of us galling back. Getting up, I yelled, "Watch where you're going!"

"I could say the same to you, Robin."

This was getting to be ridiculous. Too many people were recognizing me out of uniform; if it had continued, I would have been forced to drastically change my appearance. That would _not_ have made me a happy camper. Not to mention the fact I'd have a bat breathing down my back if my cover was ever blown.

The man brushed himself off, and I saw his eyes: they had the same black look around them.

"You're…"

"Dr. Occult? No. I'm a friend of a friend, and therefore by extension your friend. Be careful, Boy Wonder, because you're in for one hell of a ride. Literally."

The man abruptly closed his eyes and slumped to the ground.

"Hey!" I dropped down, catching the man before he hit the ground. My knees buckled under his weight and I planted my left knee into the concrete sidewalk to support him. He was breathing, but it was shallow. His eyes fluttered and I asked, "Are you ok?"

The man nodded lightly and I set him down on the ground, continuing my run back to Dr. Occult's building.

This time, I abandoned the pleasantries and kicked down the door. He wasn't surprised, nor did he move when the door was sent flying at him. Instead, it literally split in half, just as it was about to hit him.

Sighing, he brushed off residue on his suit, saying, "Knocking would have sufficed."

"What's going on, Occult. Presuming you really _are_ him." My eyes narrowed.

"My dear boy, of course I am Doctor Occult – specifically, Richard Occult. But before we continue, your introductions must come first, I'm afraid. I was – ahem – incapacitated during our last meeting, thus I am ignorant of the previous conversation."

"Incapacitated? By what?"

"Not by what –"

"By whom?"

"Exactly," he replied, smiling and nodding slightly. "But it doesn't matter. What does matter, however, is the job you came to me for."

"Yes… I was referred by a mutual friend."

"Ah, young Roy did tell me you were coming…" He was searching for a name.

"Nowadays, most people call me the Tribute."

"But it wasn't always." It wasn't a question.

"No… I _was_ Robin."

"But not anymore?"

"I… can't be Robin: Robin has ethics and morals; to get this job done, I need to be free from those. Wait… why am I talking to _you_ about this?"

"Effect of the room." He shrugged nonchalantly as I stepped back out of the room. "So, _Tribute_, what can I help you with?"

"Don't patronize me: for one, we're both in the same line of work, and I'm betting that as soon as I said 'Robin', bells went off."

"Admittedly, yes. I was called by Batman, telling me that I should be expecting you."

My heart sunk. "Is that cue for me to just leave?"

Bruce and I weren't exactly on best of terms, so I couldn't be entirely sure as to what he told the Doctor. For all intents and purposes, he could've told him to send me on my merry way, in an attempt to have me return to the Cave, admitting that I couldn't handle it. But that didn't really seem Bruce's style.

At my statement, Occult looked genuinely surprised, but then his eyes softened.

"No, dear boy. He said to assist you in any way I can." I raised my eyebrow. "In his own words, I believe it was 'he's still my son'."

"Even though I'd go to hell and back?"

"That, Robin, you'll have to take up with him; I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker."

"Th… thanks," I replied. "But I have work for you, which I'm sure you've already figured out the details of."

"I'll need you to get me some supplies."

I frowned. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, after all. Nor did I completely trust him. Fact: he knew things about me; face: there was something creepy about that room; fact: Bruce taught me to be cautious. More than that, I still hadn't figured out what went on before. Schizophrenia came to mind, but that didn't explain the man from the street.

He _was_ known for magic. Something could've been going on, but I chose to ignore it.

"What do you need?" I asked.

He smiled.

All the while, I kept telling myself this was for Wally… so why did it feel like I was making some sort of Faustian deal?

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

There were three ingredients he needed me to get: ginseng root, toadstool, and powdered deer antler.

I had cringed at the last one, but he had said, "The supplier I'm sending you to only retrieves the antlers from deer that died of natural causes.

"It's actually a sign of respect," he continued, "to the animal, that is: having a use after death, to aid those around them. That's why even the most wild of animals are more human than us all."

The spiritual lesson wasn't asked for, but it made me smile. I had lived around animals all my life as a kid, circus and all. It was always a tragedy when an animal died; mostly because of what we did to the carcass, but it was also because of the fact that we considered each and every one of those animals family.

The resident, self-proclaimed, shaman – who was really just an exiled elder from an African tribe – would dress the animal down, take what was necessary or valuable, and then would bury what was left, if anything.

I always felt unclean while watching it happen, like we were dirtying the memory of the animal we were burying. I remember one of them distinctly: the elephant of one of our main attractions – her name was Betsy. Actually, I was with her when she died; I had kept my hand on her trunk, and stood beside her so we could see each other.

It makes me smile to think that I might have helped her passing. It was during my time with the circus that I truly learned about the value of life, even if I found out that fact while I was with Bruce.

At the time, I didn't realize why I had flashed back to my carnie days. Maybe it was because I had lost so much, and I was looking for peace.

Or perhaps I was just going insane.

There was only one place I could find all these ingredients at once, without having to search all throughout the city: Dragon's Emporium in the heart of Chinatown. It was run by the Jin Family, all of whom were mediocre practitioners, but renowned for their knowledge of the arts.

It wasn't in the best part of town, but from what I heard, especially from all the magically-based heroes, thugs tended to stay away: said heroes frequented the magic shop for their mystical needs.

"Interesting…" I said.

I was up on a roof, opposite of the Dragon's Emporium, my laptop open. Bruce had kept extensive notes on the entire magical community.

"For someone who doesn't like or trust magic that much, you sure keep yourself informed… Paranoid, much?"

More than once, when we, Young Justice, or even if it was just Bruce and I, had to get magical help, he always tried to find an alternative or outsource the problem.

"Ah!" I shielded my eyes.

There had been a flash, a bright one too, directly below in the alley next to me. Most civilians wouldn't have given it a second thought, mostly out of fear – but I wasn't a civilian.

"Wait a minute… no… It can't be…"

I peered over the edge of the building; a girl, appearing to be a teenager, walked from the light. She was wearing a blue cloak, covering her entire body except for her head – her hood was down, revealing purple hair. After looking around her, she entered the magic shop.

Shutting down the laptop and putting it in my bag, I dropped down from the roof and followed her. I, too, entered the shop and a blast of hot hair hit me in the face, sending a wave of smells my way. Warm and humid, it was mostly herbs and spices – like someone was cooking something. Or more likely making some kind of mystical concoction. Or maybe a procoction?

Meh. Who knows?

"Hey!" I called out, and caught the teen's shoulders.

She turned and her eyes widened. "Robin!"

"I thought it was you," I replied, smiling and pulling her into a hug. "Raven… how are you?"

It was that "doom and gloom" sorceress with a demonic father that we'd helped back in the first year of the team. We had been investigating the disappearances of several young girls – my vote was on Mad Hatter, trying make his creepy Alice collection again – but it was a cult dedicated to Raven's father.

From the time we had started investigating, she had helped us get out of more than a few sticky situations, since she herself was bent on taking the cult down. In the end, we did get all the girls out safely and made an ally with Raven. More than once, when we needed help of the mystical variety, we called upon her.

She kept on looking at me with her indigo eyes, until she shook her head and said, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for some ingredients… um… ginseng root, toadstool, and powdered deer antler to go to Mount Justice – going to investigate with Dr. Occult. What?" She had raised her eyebrow.

"Those… are for a specific kind of teleportation spell… it, uh, takes you to what you consider the most important place related to your… uh… significant other." Raven blushed slightly and fiddled with her hair before running through it, putting it behind her ear. "Um… I know where those ingredients are, do you want some help?"

"Yeah… that'd be _peachy_…" Well, that explained the ginseng root. I mean, seriously, what did an aphrodisiac have to do with a teleportation ritual?

"How, um… have you been getting along?"

"Fair enough. Is that guy always pulling the "doom and gloom" look?" I pointed at the man manning the counter: old and Chinese, but he just looked like that guy that would jump in and kick the crap out of anyone trying to rob the place. Reminded me a lot of Jackie Chan's Uncle… sans 'one more thing!'.

"He's the guardian that watches over the store. So, yeah. Here's the toadstool and antler." With a wave of her hand, the two items were levitated in a black energy into my hands. "The ginseng should be right… over… here!"

"Thanks, Raven," I replied, catching the root. "You know, I never asked you: what're you doing here?"

Her head jerked around and went right back into place, like she couldn't look at me in the eye. "Just some stuff for protection wards."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she replied, scratching her cheek. "Nothing major, just the standard protection spells and charms. To keep out any unwanted presences."

"Like who…?"

"The standard assortment of mystical villains, I guess. It's for my base of operations; I'm… uh… branching out." She grabbed a few more ingredients, all unknown to me, all the while avoiding eye contact.

"Well… I'm just going to…"

"Hm? Oh, okay Robin. It was nice seeing you. And remember, don't hesitate to call if you need me." With one last look my way, she hovered off to the upper levels of the shop, where the ingredients for the more advanced level magics were held.

I walked over to Jackie's uncle's look-a-like and put the ingredients on the counter. With a wave of his hand, they were wrapped and put in a white, plastic bag. "Put it on the good Doctor's tab." After pulling out his calling card, the guardian nodded and I took that as my cue to leave.

In the alleyway, free from prying eyes, I changed quickly into my costume and leapt off into the night. New York was really nothing like Gotham – too many of the building were too tall to get a good grappling hook on, but I made my way across town all right, until I got to the Doctor's building, where I went in the side door.

"Occult?" I called.

"In here, Tribute." I entered into his office and tossed him the bag.

"Are you almost done with the preparations?"

"Just needed those ingredients, young man." He opened the bag and put them into a mortar and grinded them into a fine powder, with which he drew an intricate circle on the ground. "Normally, I wouldn't have to use a Circle of Power, but since you're along for the ride…"

"It's no problem. But, my spleen won't be on the outside at the end of this, right?"

"I would certainly hope not. Just adding the finishing touches, and, good! Now, come here," he guided me to the center of the circle and gave me what little powder was left in the palm of my hand. "Pinch it, so it covers your thumb and middle finger. Good, now, think of the place you want to go, the one tied directly between you and young Wallace. And then snap your fingers."

"This better," I snapped my fingers, "woooooooork!"

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

The first thing I thought was _Crap, am I ever going to be able to think again_? After realizing the oxymoronic nature of that statement, I realized that it was dark – the Mount wasn't being used.

"So they were serious…"

"Light," Dr. Occult said as he snapped his own fingers and light appeared in the palm of his hand. "Yes, they were. Young Roy has told me – what was that?"

"My guess," after listening to it again: a faint whoosh, "Red Tornado looking for the source of the disturbance. This way, quickly – and turn off that light."

I scooped the good Doctor off his feet and jumped up on the counter of the kitchen and sprinted silently down the hall towards the Dormitory Section. It was the second door on the right, right in between my room and Aqualad's. I took out a cord from my gauntlet and plugged it into the door's operating panel and forced it open, then closed it again as I put Occult inside.

"Now, would be a good time for the light," I said gruffly. With a snap of his fingers, the light was back and he deposited in the middle of the room, illuminating it like it was day.

"Don't worry, outside, no one will be able to tell there's a light, nor sound."

"Good… that's the wall – I'm going to take a look around myself," I said, as I began to walk around the room. He responded with a slight nod.

As I walked around, I took in a good look. There were Flash posters and Robin posters, with a Speedy one in the corner. Since I had never really been in his room except for that one time, I took in every detail, examining them closely. It was the first real tangible connection I had with Wally since his death, and my heart was quiet during the examination.

His bed was made, which meant that the League most likely went through after their own examination was done, so there wouldn't be much to go off of, other than my own memory and the wall, which was still intact. Abruptly, I stopped and looked up. It was there, at that ceiling tile that Wally's body had hung.

I clenched my fist.

No amount of words could describe exactly how much I wanted to run my arm through that ceiling tile and be done with it, but I abstained and instead gazed at it. The framing was slightly warped, under the weight of Wally's body. But there was nothing to suggest foul play there.

Turning, I looked at the bed again, wishing that they hadn't made it up. I could've seen how he had slept through the… impressions on the bed… I made my way there and pushed back the covers, looking at the impression that should've stayed.

I laughed bitterly and I saw Occult's head turn just a little bit.

"He slept the same was I did." I smiled and got down on my knees, looking underneath the bed, incase they had missed something. Apparently, they did. Because of Occult's light, I could see all the way to the back, nearest to the wall – there was something there.

I reached for it; it felt like… soft cloth, and I pulled it out: a green patch of cloth. For some reason, it looked familiar.

"What…?" Occult ran his hand over the wall, and muttered something under his breath. "Well, that's very interesting."

"Hm?" I got up and turned to him.

"Someone placed an illusion on the wall itself. As far as I know, Wallace had no such ability."

"Which means…"

"I'm not saying that he was murdered, but someone else definitely did this… I'm afraid, though, I cannot ascertain whom."

And then we both heard it: that whipping wind.

"Can he…?" I asked.

"He shouldn't…"

"I wouldn't put it past him," I warned. "How do we get back?"

"Simply snap your –" But he didn't finish. As I snapped my fingers, he waved his hand, and both the light, and both of us, disappeared.

.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.~.

"And you're sure, that there's no possible way to trace who cast the illusion?"

We were in his office, about ten minutes after I had sent us back. Neither of us were really prepared for it, which was why it took us awhile to get reoriented – I faster than he, which gave me time to process exactly what I had seen.

"There could be, but you would need to see someone far more powerful than I."

"I'll do that then, and thank you," I said, extending my hand, which he took. I reached into my bag, fishing out my wallet, before he reached out to my arm and grabbed it.

"Oh no, my boy. This one was free of charge – taken care of by a mutual friend."

"Is it…" But he 'zipped' his lips and put his hands up. "Not telling? Fair enough, old man. If I have any questions on these," I held up his notes of the scene, "I can call?"

"Anytime you need me, just give it a ring."

"Thanks again," I said, as I slung my bag over my shoulder and exited the building. As I mounted my bike and started riding, too many things were going through my mind.

Someone else was there with Wally and they wrote that power. Either Wally wrote or they did, but they cast that illusion, and if not one of the five detectives, including me, who surveyed the scene could figure it out, then I was thinking they wouldn't reveal themselves until the time was right.

But, more importantly… it at least gave my case some merit. Which prompted me to do what I did next.

"Robin to Batcave, message recording initiated. Bruce… I just wanted to apologize for what happened the last time we saw each other; my emotions got the better of me, but hey, it happens. More importantly, I just wanted to _thank_ you for taking care of the bill for Dr. Occult. I get it: you still care, Bruce. And I still care about you… but you know just as well as I do that there are better ways to show that you care. Robin – out."

Well… at least I still had my T-Cycle.

* * *

**Author's Note**: First off, I am soooooo sorry about the long amount of time between updates. I've been mucho busy with school and studying for AP tests, so updates will be erratic for the time being, for that I'm sorry.

Secondly, I hope I've made this perfectly clear: thank you so much for everyone who's taken the time to read this and review. Believe it or not, just a "Hey, you're doing great" makes an author feel a hell of a lot better xD.

Third, thank you all for your patience and reading through this Chapter – we saw some recognizable faces and some that we might not, but it's all good. I hope to update soon, and thanks for reading!

As always, until next time .


	8. Hiatus Announcement: Dear Reader

Hello Reader,

First off, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this. Currently, I'm sitting in my dorm room of Emerson College, at a Pre-College Program for Creative Writing. Unfortunately, this means that, not only am I not able to continue this story as of the moment, as I originally intended, I don't have a foreseeable date in which I _can_ continue this story.

Regardless of when I do continue this story, I'll have an extensive number of chapters already written so this doesn't happen again. In the meantime, I already promised a friend that I would be doing a Harry Potter fanfiction, which I'm almost done with the first book.

I apologize for not informing you of this sooner, but I've been extremely busy with school, grades, and – for the first time – friends. So, in short, I will be having a new Harry Potter series coming out, due to the promise I made to a friend, and **I will be coming back to this story indefinitely**.

Until then, I'll be working hard to get everything done, including getting my life together. Look for the new story, too. I know it's not Young Justice, but hey.

Sorry once again, and thanks for all your support,

Mike.


	9. Update Hiatus: Dear Reader

Alright, kids. Here's the deal: I have been seriously errant in my duties of fanfiction author. So, as payment-since I just read an eye-opening book on the subject of writing (two actually, _Wired for Story_ and _Style: The Anti-Textbook, _both of which I highly recommend), I'm going to rewrite the story from the ground up and give you all a better story and one that I'm personally more proud of. Look for Only Him 2.0 with another title on this same account. I'll also be looking for a beta to keep me on track, so if you're interested, send me a PM :).

Happy New Year and here's to a year of Writing.


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